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Published  by 
Den  L.utherske  IVIissionaer 

324S  1"7  /\ve.  S. 
IVIinncapoIis,  IVIinni 


1693639 


FOREWORD. 


The  author  of  these  sketches  is  not  laboring  under  the  il- 
lusion that  this  book  has  been  looked  for  and  expected  for  a 
long  time,  and  that  it  now,  at  last,  comes  to  fill  a  "long  felt 
want."  The  world  has  gotten  along  so  far  without  any  "Sketch- 
es from  Santalistan"  and  would  likely  manage  to  plod  along  to 
the  end  of  time  without  even  missing  them.  He  has  written 
them  because  he  liked  to  write  them. 

These  sketches  have  been  written  from  time  to  time  during 
a  period  of  eight  years  and  some  of  them  have  been  published 
in  various  papers  and  rewritten  for  this  volume.  They  are 
written  especially  for  the  young  people  in  our  Scandinavian 
Lutheran  Churches,  and  not  only  for  those  young  in  years,  but 
for  everybody  with  a  young  heart. 

The  aim  has  been  to  bring  a  missionary's  daily  life  and 
labors  as  well  as  the  people  among  whom  he  works  a  little 
closer  to  the  friends  in  the  home-lands  and,  if  possible,  also  to 
kindle  a  little  more  interest  in  the  greatest  of  all  causes,  Mis- 
sions. 

M.  A.  P. 


THE   GATE   OF   INDIA. 


The  Indian  ocean  was  dull.  Dark  and  oily  lay  the  wa- 
ters with  only  a  slight  swell.  There  was  no  wind  nor  waves 
for  it  was  October,  and  the  monsoon  was  over.  Slowly  the 
hot  days  and  even  hotter  nights  crept  by.  On  leaving  Aden 
you  begin  to  notice  a  change  both  in  yourself  and  in  others. 
The  manners  and  customs  of  the  West  are  being  left  be- 
hind and  now,  unconsiously  perhaps,  one  begins  to  pick 
up  the  ways  of  the  East. 

Sedate  and  elderly  gentlemen,  whom  you  learned  to 
know  while  in  the  Mediterranean  as  propriety  incarnate, 
can  now  be  seen  walking  the  decks  in  the  early  mornings, 
barefoot  and  attired  only  in  striped  pajamas. 

It  is  the  spirit  of  the  East.  You  fight  against  it  to  be- 
gin with.  You  swelter  in  the  privacy  of  your  cabin  and  count 
the  bells  till  dawn,  when  you  dress  and  get  on  deck.  There 
you  find  your  fellow  passengers  on  their  mattresses  fast 
asleep,  their  bare  feet  sticking  out  from  under  their  cover- 
ings, catching  the  sea-breeze,  which  gives  them  an  air  of  cool 
comfort  that  you  did  not  enjoy  in  your  hot  and  stuffy  cab- 
in. Consequently,  next  evening  you  break  with  the  tradi- 

7 


8         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

tions  of  the  progressive  West  and  fall  into  the  ways  of  the 
strange  and  mysterious  eastern  world.  You  bring  your 
mattress  on  deck,  robe  yourself  for  the  night  and  go  to 
sleep  under  the  starlit  eastern  sky.  Whether  it  is  the 
languor  of  the  tropics  or  the  influence  of  the  mysterious 
spirit  of  the  East,  you  cannot  tell,  but  you  feel  a  sense  of 
security  and  cairn;  a  sort  of  homelike  feeling  takes  poses- 
sion  of  you  as  if  you  had  at  last  come  to  your  own.  Fan- 
ned by  the  soft  sea-breeze  you  close  your  eyes  and  doze  and 
dream  and  rest.  You  are  "east  of  Suez"  and  the  East  has 
conquered  you.  That  mysterious  world  of  which  it  is  said 
that  it  is  never  quite  awake  by  day  and  never  quite  asleep  at 
night,  has  made  you  one  of  her  own. 

You  watch  the  flying  fishes  skip  the  surface  of  the 
quiet  water  as  the  crimson  curtains  of  the  morning  are 
drawn  aside  and  the  sun  appears  out  of  the  sea,  a  great  ball 
of  yellow  fire.  It  is  your  last  day  on  shipboard.  Before 
noon  the  hazy  outlines  of  the  mountains,  known  as  the 
Ghats,  can  be  traced  through  your  fieldglass,  and  as  the 
day  declines  your  good  ship  is  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of 
Bombay,  the  western  gate  of  the  Indian  Empire. 

On  landing  you  fall  headlong,  as  it  were,  into  the  lap  of 
her,  who  has  adopted  you,  the  eastern  world.  It  is  a  world 
entirely  different  from  anything  you  have  so  far  seen  and 
experienced.  You  have  nothing  to  compare  it  with.  It 
feels  like  a  dream,  indescribable,  wierd,  and  complex  like 
the  spinning  dance  of  a  Dervish. 

Everything  about  you  is  now  different ;  even  the  most 
common  things  are  changed  --  different  clothes,  different 
food,  different  mealtimes.  You  begin  to  realize  that  you 
are  called  upon  to  begin  a  new  life  in  this  new  world. 

At  first  everything  seems  blurred  and  out  of  focus. 
You  try  to  notice  everything  and  you  see  nothing.  You  ask 


THE  GATE  OF  INDIA.  9 

an  assistant  in  the  custom  office  to  get  a  drayman  to  take 
your  baggage  to  your  hotel.  He  beckons  to  a  chocolate 
colored,  almost  naked  man  squatting  near  by  and  gives  him 
a  command  in  a  strange  tongue.  In  a  few  moments  the 
man  returns,  bringing  up  a  ridiculous  two-wheeled  cart, 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  small  gray  oxen,  each  with  a  funny 
looking  hump  on  its  shoulders,  and  short  stubby  horns 
painted  a  bright  red. 

Your  room  is  on  the  second  floor  of  the  hotel.  There 
are  no  windows  in  it,  but  many  doors,  the  most  of  which 
lead  out  to  the  open  veranda.  As  you  sit  down  to  try  to 
gather  your  scattered  wits  and  to  get  used  to  your  sur- 
roundings, a  crow,  the  color  of  blue  steel,  settles  on  the 
veranda  railing,  lays  its  head  on  one  side,  as  if  to  inspect 
you,  and  when,  as  it  seems,  it  has  found  you  an  object 
worthy  of  observation,  it  at  once  summons  its  compatriots 
to  share  in  the  new  discovery.  In  a  moment  there  is  a 
dozen  crows  on  the  railing  busy  discussing  you,  your  fami- 
ly, your  baggage,  and  everything  about  you  with  the  great- 
est impunity.  You  may  try  to  drive  them  away,  but  they 
only  move  a  foot  or  two,  and  their  vociferous  remarks 
grow  more  personal  and  impertinent. 

As  you  watch  them,  you  begin  to  remember  what  you 
have  read  about  the  transmigration  of  souls.  While  at 
home  you  put  the  idea  aside  as  childish  nonsense,  but 
when  you  look  at  the  crows  and  their  impudent  bearing, 
you  must  admit  that  you  are  filled  with  an  uncanny  feeling 
of  doubt.  Perhaps  after  all  there  is  such  a  thing  as  trans- 
migration, and  that  these  little  bodies  are  inhabited  by  the 
souls  of  Hindus,  who  in  former  existance  earned  the  pun- 
ishment of  being  reincarnated  as  crows. 

You  are  taken  to  the  bazaar.  You  pass  down  narrow 
and  crooked  lanes  thronged  with  people  attired  in  all  kinds 


10         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAX. 

of  strange  garbs.  The  stores  or  shops,  as  they  are  called 
are  only  little  stalls  where  the  merchants  sit  tailor  fashion 
with  their  goods  laid  out  on  the  floor  about  them.  And  the 
dust,  the  smells,  the  clouds  of  flies  and  other  insects,  the 
shouting  and  vociferous  jabbering  of  the  people,  the  gor- 
geous mixture  of  colors,  of  silk  and  rags,  —  all  go  to  make 
up  a  picture  both  strange  and  fascinating. 

A  drive  to  Malebar  Hill  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  you 
will  never  forget.  The  Parsees,  sometimes  called  the  Jews 
of  the  East,  live  there.  The  hill  is  one  luxurious  garden 
with  beautiful  bungalows,  half  hidden  by  tropical  flowers 
and  trees. 

As  you  drive  along,  enjoying  the  sights,  so  strange  and 
beautiful,  your  guide  points  out  to  you  a  low,  round,  roof- 
less tower  set  in  the  middle  of  a  large  park  gorgeous  with 
blossoming  trees,  shrubs  and  creepers.  It  is  the  "Tower  of 
Silence."  To  it  the  Parsees  carry  their  dead  and  leave  them 
to  be  devoured  by  vultures.  And  as  you  look  you  will 
notice  that  the  tower,  is  literally  fringed  with  those  birds 
of  prey.  They  are  perched  there  quietly  waiting  for  their 
next  meal. 

The  Tower  and  the  repulsive  idea  connected  with  it 
sends  a  shudder  through  you.  For  the  rest  of  the  evening 
you  see  and  enjoy  nothing.  Slowly  the  sun  dips  into  the 
Indian  ocean.  All  Bombay  comes  out  for  a  promenade  and 
a  breath  of  sea-breeze  along  the  beach.  The  sunset  sky, 
the  passing  rows  of  beautiful  vehicles  and  the  people  in 
their  bright  colored  clothes,  all  go  to  make  up  a  picture 
which  would  charm  even  the  most  weary  globe-trotter,  but 
you  hardly  see  it.  In  vain  you  try  to  rid  yourself  of  that 
repulsive  picture  of  the  gorged  and  sleepy  vultures  in  that 
beautiful  garden. 

In  time  you  will  learn  that  even  this  is  the  ''Spirit  of 


THE  GATE  OF  INDIA. 


11 


the  East."  In  the  midst  of  a  beauty,  almost  supernatural, 
there  is  a  vulture  crowded  "Tower  of  Silence,''  or  a  horrid 
something,  standing  out  prominently,  and  unblushingly 
casting  its  dark  shadow  of  horrors  across  this  fairest  scene. 
You  can  but  turn  to  Him,  who  knows  the  inmost  yearnings 
of  your  soul,  and  pray  that  you  may  be  permitted  to  con- 
tribute your  little  mite  towards  the  removal  of  all  that, 
which  mars  the  fair  picture  of  the  fair  East. 


MISSION  CHURCH  AT  BENAGARIA. 


SANTALISTAN. 


Santalistan  is  not  an  official  name.  You  will  not  find 
it  on  the  map.  The  name  is  applied  colloquially  to  the 
district  in  northern  Bengal  where  the  Santals  live. 

If  you  take  a  map  of  India  and  find  Calcutta,  the  old 
capital  of  the  Empire,  you  will  notice  that  the  river  Ganges 
bends  to  the  west  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  north  of 
that  city.  This  bend  is  generally  called  the  elbow  of  the 
Ganges. 

Santalistan  is  part  of  the  country  lying  in  the  elbow  of 
that  famous  river. 

The  official  name  of  the  main  part  of  Santalistan  is 
Santal  Parganas.  It  has  an  area  of  about  4800  square  miles 
and  is  nearly  as  large  as  the  state  of  Connecticut. 

The  Santals  are  not,  however,  confined  to  this  district, 
but  are  scattered  about  in  northern  Bengal  and  Assam. 
Neither  arc  all  the  people  in  the  Santal  Paraganas  Santals. 
A  great  number  of  the  inhabitants  are  Hindus  of  the  vari- 
ous castes  and  there  are  also  a  large  number  of  Mohamme- 
dans. 

In   a   certain   sense  the   Santal   Parganas   has  been   set 

12 


SANTALISTAN.  13 

aside  for  the  Santals.     Here  they  receive  certain  privileges 
from  the  government  and  are  protected  by  special  laws. 

Santalistan  is  comparatively  high  and  hilly.  One  might 
say,  perhaps,  that  it  consists  of  a  number  of  rocky  hills 
with  stretches  of  prairie  in  between  them.  These  hills  are 
not  very  high.  Lokhonpur  hill,  —  the  Santals  call  it  a 


THE  VILLAGE  POND. 

mountain  — -  has  an  elevation  of  but  2311   feet  above  sea 
level. 

If  you  feel  equal  to  the  exertion  and  the  day  is  not  too 
hot  it  will  pay  you  to  climb  it.  There  are  goat  paths  lead- 
ing up  between  the  boulders.  In  some  places  the  climb  is 
very  steep  and  you  will  wish  you  had  as  many  legs  as  the 
pathmakers.  The  barefoot  Santal  boys,  however,  do  not 


14  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

mind  it  in  the  least.  They  skip  along  like  monkeys  and 
pity  your  slow  progress,  evidently  thinking,  that  you  are 
very  clumsy  on  a  mountain  path. 

At  last  you  have  reached  the  top.  You  wipe  the  perspi- 
ration from  your  brow  and  look  out  upon  the  lovely  pano- 
rama spread  out  before  you.  Glittering  in  the  sunlight  are 
brooks  and  rivers  meandering  through  the  valleys.  It  is 
early  October  and  you  can  still  see  the  water  glistening  in 
the  dark  green  rice  fields,  and  there  are  also  patches  of 
other  crops,  such  as  millet  and  pulse  in  various  shades  of 
color,  making  the  plain  appear  like  a  great  crazy-quilt  spread 
out  in  the  sun. 

Here  and  there  you  get  glimpses  of  the  straw-thatched 
roofs  or  whitewashed  walls  of  a  village.  It  is  a  scene  so 
full  of  peace  and  beauty  that  it  captivates  you.  It  is  like 
a  beautiful  dream  and  you  forget  the  fleeting  hours.  The 
sun  is  sinking.  From  the  hillside  below  you  the  evening 
breeze  wafts  up  to  you  the  melancholy  notes  of  a  shepherd's 
flute  as  he  wends  his  way  homeward  with  his  flock.  A  last 
lingering  look  and  you  come  away  enriched  with  memories 
that  will  remain  with  you  as  long  as  life.  You  have  had  a 
glimpse  of  a  bit  of  Santalistan. 

The  hills  are  wooded  to  the  very  top.  On  the  highest 
slopes  one  will  find  the  hill-bamboo,  tall,  straight  and  grace- 
ful, its  thin  feathery  leaves  hanging  fringe-like  from  its 
branches  and  quivering  in  the  smallest  breeze.  There  is 
the  stately  edcl,  or  Indian  cotton  tree,  and  further  down 
towards  the  foot  you  will  find  the  tall  and  straight  sarjon 
or  sal,  the  sacred  tree  of  the  Santals.  While  scattered  about 
on  hillside  and  plain,  among  the  rice  fields  and  about  the 
village  grows  the  sturdy  matkon  tree.  The  flower  of  this 
tree  is  eaten  by  the  people  and  is  quite  nourishing. 

The   Santals   are  clearers   of  land,   diggers   and  grub- 


SAXTALISTAN.  15 

bers.  It  seldom  occurs  to  them  to  plant  trees,  but  they  cut 
them  and  clear  them  away.  For  that  reason  there  is  very 
little  timber  or  jungle  left  in  the  Santal  country.  Only 
where  protected  by  the  forest  department  of  the  Govern- 
ment, patches  of  jungle  remain.  Of  course,  there  are  a 
few  shade  trees  about  the  villages;  otherwise,  compared  to 
other  parts  of  India  the  country  must  be  said  to  be  rather 
treeless. 

The  soil  is  sandy  and  rather  poor  compared  w'ith  the 
rich  alluvial  of  the  Gangetic  plain;  but  if  it  receives  suffi- 
cient rain  will  produce  good  crops.  The  lowlands  or  val- 
leys are  made  into  rice  fields,  while  the  higher  land  yields 
corn,  small  grain  and  oilseeds.  Some  land  in  each  village 
is  set  aside  for  grazing  purposes  and  there  is  very  little 
waste  land. 

Coal  is  found  in  several  places,  but  in  the  Santal  Parga- 
nas  it  is  of  a  rather  inferior  quality  and  very  little  use  is 
found  for  it.  Iron  ore  is  found  quite  abundantly,  and  there 
are  also  traces  of  other  metals,  such  as  lead  and  mica. 

About  the  climate  of  Santalistan  you  will  be  able  to 
form  an  idea  when  you  learn  that  it  lies  about  as  far  north 
of  the  equator  as  the  island  of  Cuba, 


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.*. -rtt.  4. 'it-tit  4.  +  4. .-":  i+  4  *±  +  4.  f  4.  «•;  *>  tii-4. 4  4  4  i;  4  *  4  *  4.  *  4 


LEARNING    THE    LANGUAGE. 


You  will  soon  discover  that  it  is  more  work  than  play 
to  learn  a  new  language,  when  you  are  getting  on  in  years, 
especially  a  language  so  intricate  as  Santali. 

Very  often  you  get  discouraged.  With  twenty-seven 
tenses  of  the  verb  and  many  other  intricacies  entirely  for- 
eign to  all  your  ideas  of  what  language  ought  to  be,  you 
sometimes  feel,  that  it  is  no  use  trying;  you  might  as  well 
give  up  first  as  last.  But  when  you  hear  a  little  Santal  boy, 
as  yet  not  old  enough  for  a  loincloth,  chattering  away  in 
Santali,  as  if  it  were  the  only  language  in  the  world,  you 
take  courage  and  push  on  anew.  When  that  little  boy 
could  learn  to  speak  Santali,  why  cannot  you? 

Santali  is  printed  in  Roman  characters,  which  is  a  de- 
cided advantage  for  you.  Most  of  the  Indian  languages  are 
printed  in  characters  of  their  own.  And  yet  you  will  find 
that  though  you  know  the  letters  by  sight  you  do  not  know 
them  by  sound.  The  first  letter  in  the  alphabet,  for  instance, 
has  four  distinct  sounds,  each  indicated  by  diacritical  marks. 
A  few  letters  represent  sounds  peculiar  to  the  Santal  lang- 
uage, and  these,  a  European  can  pronounce  only  after  long 
and  diligent  practice.  • 

16 


LEARNING  THE  LANGUAGE.  17 

First  you  get  the  rudiments  of  the  grammar  and  some 
drilling  in  pronounciation ;  then  you  learn  to  say  "Chet 
kana?"  (what  is  that?)  Armed  with  this  magic  phrase 
you  go  out  into  the  villages  among  the  people.  You  point 
at  a  tree  and  say:  "Chet  kana?" 

Dignity  must  be  thrown  aside,  you  must  take  lessons 
from  everybody.  You  have  to  play  the  natural  role  of  an 
ignoramus  running  about  asking  for  the  names  of  the  most 
common  objects;  and  when  you  hear  them  and  try  to  twist 
your  tongue  around  those  almost  inhuman  sounds  you  of- 
ten fail  most  pathetically.  But  your  efforts  amuse  the 
people.  Many  a  hearty  laugh  they  get  at  your  expense. 
And  they  do  not  wait  until  you  are  out  of  the  way,  but 
laugh  straight  in  your  face.  But  you  soon  learn  to  laugh 
with  them.  So  much,  at  least,  you  know,  that  laughing 
and  crying  is  expressed  in  the  same  way  the  \vorld  over. 

And  all  the  blunders  you  will  make !  I  am  sure  you 
would  laugh  yourself  blue  in  the  face  if  I  told  you  some  of 
mine,  but  I  will  not ;  I  know  how  to  keep  secrets. 

You  struggle  on  with  the  few  words  and  phrases  you 
have  learned  and  eke  them  out  with  profuse  gestures  un- 
til you  manage  to  make  yourself  understood ;  and  when  the 
people  find  that  you  are  in  earnest  about  learning  their 
language,  they  vie  with  one  another  in  their  efforts  to  help 
you  on. 

It  is  often  dificult  to  get  a  good  native  teacher.  The 
common  fault  of  native  teachers  is  that  they  try  to  explain 
things  to  you  loquaciously  and  usually  manage  to  get  you 
so  tangled  up  in  their  explanations  that  you  get  entirely 
bewildered.  "Women  and  children  are  the  best  teachers. 
They  speak  more  slowly  and  as  a  rule,  more  distinctly  than 
men,  and,  besides,  they  do  not  try  to  explain  so  much. 

How  glad  you  are,  when  you  at  last  have  got  so  far, 


18  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

that  you  can  carry  on  a  simple  conversation !  Your  cour- 
age grows  by  leaps  and  bounds.  At  last  you  feel  that  you 
can  begin  to  speak  a  word  for  Him,  whose  name  you  have 
come  to  proclaim. 

Then  your  first  sermon !  How  well  you  prepare  it, 
weigh  every  statement,  and  think  that  this  sermon  they 
will  never  forget.  Great  will  be  your  surprise,  when  some 
one  is  honest  enough  to  tell  you,  that  he  did  not  understand 
very  much  of  what  you  said.  Your  choice  of  words  and 
your  pronounciation  may,  in  the  main,  have  been  correct, 
but  your  way  of  thinking  and  presenting  the  truth  is  that 
of  the  West,  and  therefore  foreign  to  your  audience.  Again 
off  to  school  you  must  go.  You  have  to  put  yourself  at 
the  feet  of,  perhaps,  an  old  illiterate  Santal  and  from  him 
learn  how  to  preach  so,  that  the  people  may  be  able  to  un- 
derstand you.  This  is  a  new  field  to  be  mastered  and 
your  college  and  seminary  diploma  will  not  help  you  much. 

The  Santal  presents  a  new  type  of  character,  entirely 
different  from  what  you  are  used  to.  His  ways  of  looking 
at  things  are  not  your  ways  and  his  ideas  are  not  your 
ideas.  If  you  are  to  meet  in  sympathy  you  must  lay  aside 
your  dignity  of  learning,  if  you  have  any,  and  get  down  to 
where  he  is  and  fall  into  his  way  of  thinking  and  feeling. 
And  that  can  be  done  only  when  you  possess  some  of  that 
love  she  had,  who  said  to  her  mother-in-law :  "Thy  people 
shall  be  my  people." 


*  t  <>  •'  \  I.  :< 
^^y^V^ 

.  «  •-!  .T.r.  .  ;  |.  1-1,1  .1  f.T  .i  :t,  -i-1     •  •  "'  -J  -/i  -I  -  1  •  i  [  V     »  :  i     »  -  I    .T*T  •  j  -r.,ifTi 


VILLAGE   PREACHING. 


Some  good  people  in  the  homelands  seem  to  think  that 
the  heathen  are  just  dying  for  an  opportunity  to  hear  the 
gospel,  and  that  they  have  been  anxiously  looking  for 
an  invitation  to  become  Christians.  But  that  is  far  from 
true.  It  is  not  true  even  of  the  ungodly  masses  at  home. 
They  are  anxious  neither  to  hear  the  Gospel  nor  to  come  to 
God.  It  is  rather  the  other  way.  They  try  apparently  to 
get  as  far  away  from  God  and  the  irtfulence  of  his  word 
as  posible.  For  this  reason  Christian  workers  at  home  have 
to  go  out  into  the  streets  and  the  highways,  into  the  fields 
and  shops,  and  preach  to  them  in  order  that  they  may  know 
the  way  of  salvation. 

If  a  missionary  comes  to  the  heathen  with  the  idea  that 
they  are  anxiously  waiting  for  him  to  proclaim  the  good 
news  to  them,  he  will  soon  know  his  mistake.  This  is  a 
land  where  the  people  for  ages  and  ages  have  been  bound 
by  the  superstitions  of  lidolatry,  and  have  been  taught  to 
look  with  suspicion  on  everything  foreign.  Indeed  they 
think  they  can  get  along  very  well  without  both  the  mis- 
sionary and  his  preaching. 

The  heathen  do  not  come  to  the  missionary,  he  must 

19 


20         SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTAL1STAX. 

go  to  them.  In  our  Santal  field  it  is  not  very  common  that 
a  non-christian  comes  to  church.  If  he  is  to  hear  the  gospel 
at  all,  it  must  be  preached  to  him  in  his  own  village  or 
home.  There  is  where  the  work  of  the  missionary  begins. 

Early  in  the  morning,  together  with  one  or  more  catech- 
ists,  the  missionary  will  go  ant  to  the  villages.  The  pariah 
dogs  will  announce  his  arrival,  and  the  children  playing  in 
the  streets  will  shout  "Saheb,  Saheb!"  This  helps  to  ad- 
vertise his  meeting  and  bring  out  the  people.  Usually  a 
bedstead  is  brought  out  into  the  street  and  he  is  asked  to 
take  a  seat.  He  looks  at  the  bed  and  if  his  suspicions  are 
aroused  be  will  take  up  as  small  a  portion  of  it  as  possible. 
The  village  oilpress,  or  a  flat  stone  under  some  spreading 
tree,  also  offers  a  convenient  seat  and  a  good  gathering- 
place 

Sometimes  however,  the  missionary  is  not  offered  a 
seat  at  all,  but  asked  to  go  and  preach  in  the  next  village. 
Such  cases,  fortunately,  are  exceptions  -  -  in  our  district. 
As  a  rule,  the  people  are  polite  and  greet  the  Padre  Saheb 
or  missionary  with  cordial  "johars"  and  invite  him  to  be 
seated.  Even  though  they  do  not  care  so  much  for  what 
he  has  to  say,  they  enjoy  looking  at  him.  Being  white,  he 
is  a  curiosity. 

In  a  little  while  quite  a  crowd  will  gather.  The  mis- 
sionary will  ask  all  to  sit  down,  and  they  squat  on  the 
ground  --  that  is,  the  men  and  boys  do.  The  women  will 
remain  standing  at  a  distance. 

The  native  Christian  worker  will  then  sing  a  song, 
usually  gospel  words  fitted  to  some  of  the  old  Santal  tunes. 
Then  either  the  missionary  or  the  cathechist  will  explain  the 
song  and  invite  the  people  to  come  to  the  Savior.  After 
reading  a  fevy  words  of  Scripture  the  missionary  will  be- 
gin to  talk.  It  will  not  be  preaching  in  the  sense  in  which 


VILLAGE  PREACHING.  21 

that  word  is  used  in  the  West.  Preaching  here  is  more  in 
the  form  of  a  conversation.  Everybody  is  at  liberty  to  make 
remarks,  and  the  more  remarks  made,  the  better. 

Religious  truth  must  be  presented  to  them  in  such  a 
form  that  they  can  grasp  it.  The  missionary  must  have 
recourse  to  parables,  pictures  and  illustrations  taken  from 
the  lives  of  the  people. 

All  sorts  of  objections  against  Christianity  are  raised 
and  must  be  patiently  met.  And  the  speaker  must  not  let 
himself  be  distracted  if  he  should  hear  someone  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd  making  sundry  remarks  on  his  per- 
sonal appearance,  remarks  very  much  like  those  a  visitor  at 
the  zoo  will  make  about  the  animal  he  is  looking  at. 

One  will  very  seldom  now-a-days  find  a  Santal,  who 
will  try  to  defend  his  "Bongas"  or  gods  and  his  heathen 
worship.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  often  quite  amusing  to 
hear  these  people  run  down  and  ridicule  their  "Bongas." 
''They  are  a  worthless  lot,"  they  will  say,  "that  only  do  us 
harm,  and  as  to  helping  us,  they  only  help  us  to  spend  every- 
thing we  have,  so  that  our  children  often  have  to  go  naked 
and  hungry." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  leave  them  then?" 

"That  is  not  so  easy"  they  will  reply,  "because  our  fa- 
thers have  shown  us  this  way  and  left  us  in  the  power  of 
the  "Bongas." 

"Now  see  here,  my  friend;  if  your  father  had  given  you 
in  service  to  a  certain  master,  who  treated  you  very  cruelly, 
never  gave  you  any  pay  and  never  offered  you  anything  to 
eat  or  to  wear,  but  on  the  contrary  in  every  possible  way 
caused  you  pain  and  suffering,  would  you  keep  on  year 
after  year  serving  such  a  master?  Would  you  not  run 
away  from  him?  I  think  you  would,  if  you  looked  to  your 
own  interests.  And  here  is  your  real  master,  your  Savior, 


22  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

calling  yon  to  come  to  him  and  rest.  If  you  suffer,  yon 
have  no  one  but  yourself  to  blame;  for  Christ  has  been  call- 
ing you,  and  is  calling  you  again  today." 

Sometimes  one  will  meet  people  who  want  to  have  an 
argument  with  the  missionary.  Little,  however,  is  gained 
by  arguing.  The  man,  when  beaten  in  argument,  will  get 
angry  and  leave  in  a  huff  and  will  most  likely  become  an 
enemy,  or  else  he  will  laugh  and  say,  "I  am  no  match  for 
you  in  a  discussion." 

There  are  many  things  to  which  they  can  agree.  Sin, 
sickness,  death  and  sorrow  they  all  know.  They  will  al- 
ways  listen  to  the  simple  story  how  God  has  met  our  needs 
and  opened  a  way  back  to  himself  for  sinful  man  through 
Jesus  Christ. 

At  these  street  meetings  the  seed  is  sown  broadcast,  as 
it  were.  In  some  heart,  somewhere,  some  truth  will  lodge, 
which  under  God's  care  some  day  will  bear  fruit. 

But  in  the  missionfield,  as  everywhere  else,  for  that 
matter,  it  is  personal  work  that  counts.  Brother  dealing 
with  brother  heart  to  heart.  Sitting  on  the  embankment 
between  the  ricefields  with  his  single  listener  the  preacher 
will  tell  the  old,  old  story.  At  last  the  listener  will  say, 
"O  yes,  I  am  tired  of  the  "Bongas.'  Since  my  child  died 
I  have  offered  no  sacrifices  to  them.  And  both  my  wife 
and  I  often  talk  about  it,  that  we  should  like  to  become 
Christians.  But  you  know  it  will  be  hard  for  us,  as  all  our 
relatives  and  friends  are  heathen."  This  objection  is  over- 
come and  the  family  is  ready  to  recieve  instruction.  Then 
when  the  main  truths  of  the  Christian  religion  are  mastered 
they  are  baptized. 


VILLAGE   SCHOOLS. 


Schools  are  not  the  rule  among  the  Santals,  but  rather 
the  exception.  Outside  of  the  districts,  in  which  there  are 
Christians,  who  have  taken  the  lead,  there  are  very  few  di- 
stinctly Santal  schools.  The  common  Santal  does  not  think 
it  necessary  to  educate  his  children.  His  views  on  educa- 
tion are  expressed  in  about  the  following  terms:  ''Our 
fathers  and  grandfathers  did  not  know  how  to  read  and 
write,  we  have  not  learned  it,  then  why  should  our  sons  go 
to  school  and  grow  up  to  be  idlers.  Let  them  go  into  the 
fields  and  work,  let  them  take  care  of  the  cattle  and  goats, 
then  they  can  get  something  for  their  stomachs.  You  can 
not  eat  paper." 

A  few  of  the  non-Christian  Santals  have  however  seen 
the  advantage  of  an  education  and  are  sending  their  sons 
to  some  village  school  where  they  learn  to  read  and  write 
the  Bengali  language.  An  old  village  headman  said;  "It 
is  a  good  thing  to  have  one  or  two  in  the  village  able  to  read 
and  write.  When  we  get  a  summons  from  the  court  as 
witnesses  or  a  letter  is  sent  us,  then  our  own  boys  can  tell 
us  what  the  paper  says." 

23 


24  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

Apart  from  natural  sluggishness  the  Hindu  caste  system 
is  responsible  for  this  state  of  affairs.  For  ages  and  ages 
the  Brahmin  has  carried  the  burden  of  education  for  all 
classes.  It  was  a  deadly  sin  to  educate  a  boy  of  a  low  birth ; 
and  as  for  educating  women,  that  was  entirely  out  of  the 
question.  But  western  influence  and  western  law  has 


A  VILLAGE  SCHOOL. 

changed  all  this.  Schools  are  now  scattered  throughout  the 
country,  and  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  an  education  is 
within  the  reach  of  every  one,  even  the  poorest  Santal. 

Let  us  take  a  peep  at  the  typical  Santal  school. 

You  need  not  look  for  the  school  house,  for  there  is 
none.  The  scholars  squat  in  the  village  street  or  in  the 
shade  of  a  tree  and  the  schoolmaster,  stick  in  hand,  is  usu- 


VILLAGE  SCHOOLS.  25 

ally  seated  on  a  stool  in  their  midst.  If  it  is  cold,  he  allows 
his  school  to  find  a  sunny  wall,  where  they  are  sheltered 
from  the  wind.  The  so-called  Manjhithan  also  offers  shade 
and  shelter  when  that  is  needed. 

But  I  must  tell  you  what  a  Manjhithan  is.  It  is  an  earth 
platform  raised  a  foot  or  two  above  the  ground.  There  are 
five  posts,  one  at  each  corner  and  one  in  the  center,  support- 
ing a  thatched  roof.  Around  the  post  in  the  center  you 
will  notice  a  few  pebbles  the  size  of  an  egg  sticking  out  of 
the  earth.  In  these  pebbles  the  spirits  of  the  departed  vil- 
lage headmen  dwell,  one  spirit  in  each  pebble.  Under  this 
roof  the  villagers  hold  their  councils  and  the  spirits  of  the 
departed  are  supposed  to  aid  them  in  their  deliberations 
and  lead  them  in  the  paths  of  wisdom. 

When  a  boy  is  brought  to  school  the  first  thing  he  has 
to  learn,  according  to  the  opinion  of  the  teacher,  is  to  sit 
still.  This  is  indeed  a  hard  lesson  for  an  active  Santal  boy, 
but  through  generous  assistance  of  the  master's  stick  the 
lesson  is  in  time  learned  and  he  is  ready  for  advancement. 
He  is  then  given  over  to  one  of  the  bigger  boys  who  traces 
a  letter  in  the  dust  with  his  finger.  This  letter  the  begin- 
ner must  retrace  times  without  number,  each  time  shouting 
out  the  name  of  that  letter  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  It  is 
quite  an  entertainment  to  listen  to  dozen  boys  all  at  once 
"barking"  away  at  the  alphabet  in  this  manner.  It  reminds 
one  of  a  dog  show. 

The  teacher  will  explain  to  us  that  this  method  has  a 
great  advantage  besides  that  of  being  old,  it  teaches  reading 
and  writing  at  the  same  time.  He  might  also  add  that  it 
developes  their  lungs. 

At  last  the  boy  gets  a  book.  And  a  proud  little  fellow 
he  is  as  he  comes  down  the  village  street  with  his  first  book 
under  his  arm  securely  tied  up  in  an  old  rag.  He  is  on  the 


26 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


highroad  to  learning.  Now  his  work  begins  in  earnest.  I  le 
has  to  learn  the  letters  by  rote.  A  few  days  more  of  shout- 
ing and  he  will  be  able  to  read  them  off  from  beginning  to 
end  like  a  table.  But  if  you  take  a  leaf  from  the  jackfruit 


READY  FOR  SCHOOL. 


tree  close  by,  make  a  small  hole  in  the  center  of  it,  put  it 
on  the  page  of  his  reader,  and  move  it  about  so  that  he  can 
see  but  one  letter  at  the  time,  you  will  be  surprised  to  find 
how  many  he  misses.  But  give  him  plenty  of  time  —  and 


VILLAGE  SCHOOLS. 


27 


time  is  cheap  in  India  --  and  he  will  eventually  learn  to 
read,  write,  and  do  sums  on  his  slate,  or  on  the  ground  and 
in  his  head. 

It  is  hut  fair  to  state,  however,  that  in  the  schools  under 
the  supervision  of  the  government  or  the  mission,  the  above 
described  method  is  getting  more  and  more  obsolete.  West- 
ern methods  and  text-books  are  bringing  about  a  change  for 
the  better  in  the  old  Bengali  school  system.  One  thing 
you  will  not  fail  to  notice  in  all  the  village  schools,  even 
the  best  and  most  up  to  date  ones,  and  that  is  that  all  the 
studying  is  done  by  reading  aloud,  and  the  louder  the  better. 
A  village  school  can  be  heard  long  before  it  is  seen. 


MODES   OF   TRAVEL. 


There  are  two  kinds  of  people  in  Santalistan,  those  who 
travel  and  those  who  do  not.  The  travelers  are  again  divi- 
ded into  two  classes,  those  who  travel  afoot  and  those  who 
do  not. 

Traveling  afoot  is  pretty  much  the  same  all  the  world 
over.  It  seems  to  be  man's  natural  way  of  locomotion,  and 
is  very  likely,  as  old  as  the  human  race.  In  the  West  it  is 
not  popular  any  longer.  No  end  of  machinery  and  devices 
have  been  invented  by  ingenious  men  to  do  away  with  the 
old  style  of  locomotion,  but  in  the  conservative  East,  where 
modes  change  but  slowly  it  is  a  very  common,  if  not  alto- 
gether a  popular,  way  of  getting  from  one  place  to  another. 

On  market  days  one  can  see  long  lines  of  foot  passen- 
gers pass  by  in  single  file,  some  carrying  their  products 
away  to  be  sold  or  exchanged,  others  carrying  nothing  but 
their  sticks.  Or  if  you  are  near  some  of  the  great  high- 
ways you  can  often  see  pilgrims  by  the  half  hundred  trudg- 
ing wearily  along  on  their  way  to  some  shrine.  But  we  are 
not  concerned  with  them.  It  is  those  who  do  not  travel 
afoot  we  are  interested  in  just  now. 

28 


MODES  OF  TRAVEL.  29 

Bicycles  are  not  very  common.  Some  few  years  ago 
they  were  a  great  curiosity  in  the  eyes  of  the  natives.  I 
well  remember  that  once  a  fellow-worker  and  I  were  out 
on  a  tour.  He  had  a  bicycle  and  I  rode  a  horse,  \\liile 
passing  from  one  mission  center  to  another  we  took  what 
we  thought  would  be  a  short  cut  through  the  jungle.  A< 
we  passed  through  a  Santal  village  some  children  at  play 


CROSSING  A  STREAM. 

in  the  street  saw  us  and  set  up  an  alarm.  At  once  the  whole 
male  population  of  the  village  turned  out  and  pursued  the 
cyclist.  Had  I  not  known  that  they  were  moved  by  curiou- 
sity.  I  should  have  been  alarmed  at  seeing  some  twenty 
Santals  racing  along  at  top  speed  chasing  after  a  mission- 
ary. 


30         SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTALISTAX. 

Some  Santals  were  one  clay  standing  about  a  bicycle 
and  discussing  the  question  bow  is  was  possible  for  a  per- 
son to  stay  on  it  without  the  whole  thing  upsetting.  This 
phenomenon  one  man  undertook  to  explain  in  the  follow- 
ing way :  "You  see,  it's  like  this,  it's  the  wind  that  does 
everything.  A  bicycle  is  like  a  railway  engine,  except  that 
a  bicycle  is  run  by  wind  and  an  engine  by  steam.  I  have 
seen  the  Saheb  every  dag,  before  he  starts  out,  pumping 
wind  into  the  wheels  to  make  them  go.  If  there  is  no  wind 
in  the  wheels  they  will  not  go." 

Horseback  riding  is  quite  common,  and  has  the  great 
advantage  that  one  can  with  a  good  horse  get  over  nearly 
all  kinds  of  roads  and  even  across  country  where  there  arc 
no  roads  at  all.  The  best  horses  are  imported  from  Au- 
stralia. They  are  called  Walers.  But  they  are  costly.  As 
a  rule  a  missionary  is  not  overburdened  with  a  great  deal 
of  this  world's  goods  and  therefore  cannot  buy  costly  hors- 
es. He  must  generally  be  contented  with  a  so-called 
"country  tat,"  that  is,  a  country-bred  pony.  I  possessed 
one  of  these  animals  once.  It  cost  me  twenty  dollars  and 
the  saddle  cost  twenty-two.  Only  by  courtesy  could  it  be 
called  a  horse.  It  answered  literally  to  a  soldier's  defini- 
tion of  a  government  mule :  "An  animal  which  bites  at 
one  end  and  kicks  at  the  other  and  is  extremely  uncomfort- 
able in  the  middle."  On  various  commonplace  and  practi- 
cal subjects  my  ''tat"  held  extremely  advanced  opinions 
which  no  amount  of  persuasion  or  argument  could  shake. 
At  last  however,  we  got  to  understand  one  another,  and, 
by  avoiding  subjects  about  which  we  knew  we  could  not 
agree,  we  managed  to  get  along  quite  well. 

Some  people  have  what  they  call  a  "tomtom,"  a  two- 
wheeled  cart  or  gig  for  one  horse.  But  the  trouble  is  that 
in  order  to  get  about  with  those,  one  must  have  roads.  And 


MODES  OP  TRAVEL. 


31 


so  long  as  roadmaking  and  roadrepairing  is  as  unpopular 
among  the  Santal  villagers  as  it  is  at  the  present  time,  a 
vehicle  of  that  sort  will  not  be  of  much  use.  Where  one 
has  access  to  the  roads  built  and  repaired  by  the  govern- 
ment, the  case  is  different. 

The  tika  ghari"  is  a  four  wheeled  carnage,  in  appear- 


THE  TIKA  GHARI. 


ance  not  unlike  a  Chicago  milk  delivery  wagon,  only  much 
heavier  and  clumsier.  Perhaps  you  would  get  a  better  idea 
if  you  imagine  a  cross  between  a  milk  wagon  and  an  ice 
wagon.  It  is  drawn  by  two  native  ponies.  Each  pair  of 
ponies  runs  five  or  six  miles,  then  it  is  changed.  The  po- 
nies usually  go  at  a  gallop,  and  if  the  load  is  not  too  heavy 


32  KETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAX. 

and  the  road  smooth  they  get  over  the  ground  pretty  quick- 
ly. But  country  ponies  have  minds  of  their  own.  Some- 
times they  refuse  to  stir,  at  least  forward.  Backwards  they 
will  go  any  distance  just  for  the  pleasure  of  spilling  both 
the  "tika"  and  its  occupant  in  the  ditch. 

"When  the  ponies  have  once  made  up  their  minds,  all 
the  shouting  and  whipping  and  Hindustani  abuse  fail  to 
move  them  an  inch.  The  driver  and  conductor,  or  carriage- 
man,  will  both  have  to  get  down ;  calling  all  the  people  in 
the  neighborhood  to  help  them,  they  will  have  to  push  both 
the  ponies  and  the  carriage  for  some  distance  until  the  pon- 
ies get  tired  of  the  game  and  make  a  new  start.  Of  course 
all  this  takes  time,  but  in  a  country  where  the  natives  have 
a  dozen  million  re-carnations  to  look  forward  to,  time  is 
of  small  object. 

For  all-around  usefulness  and,  perhaps,  also  for  speed, 
one  will  find  that  the  bullock-cart  is  as  good  as  anything 
invented.  It  is  a  two-wheeled  cart  with  a  cover  to  it ;  in 
appearance  it  is  not  unlike  a  small  prairie  schooner.  The 
cover  is  made  from  bamboo  matting  and  is  open  at  both 
ends.-  Inside  there  is  just  room  enough  for  a  man  to  stretch 
out. 

The  cart  is  drawn  by  two  patient  hump-shouldered  bul- 
locks. On  the  pole  in  front  of  the  cart  and  within  easy 
reach  of  the  bullocks'  tails  the  driver  is  perched.  The  aver- 
age speed  is  two  miles  an  hour,  but  if  the  driver  has  a  pair 
of  good  lungs  and  can  shout  continually  and  is  persevering 
in  twisting  the  animals'  tails  the  speed  may  be  accelerated 
by  an  additional  half  mile  per  hour. 

If  your  cart  is  supplied  with  springs  and  the  road  is 
somewhat  smooth,  this  way  of  traveling  need  not  be  entire- 
ly uncomfortable.  At  any  rate  you  feel  that  you  get  a  fair 
training  in  the  virtue  of  patience.  But  when  the  cart  is 


MODEG  CF  TRAVEL. 


33 


devoid  of  springs  and  the  road  is  rough,  you  have  rather 
a  hard  time  of  it.  being  slung  from  side  to  side  and  some- 
times almost  standing  on  your  head.  In  vain  you  repeat  the 
old  couplet  you  learned  at  school: 

"Xow  patience  is  the  pill 
That  eases  every  ill." 


BULLOCK  CART. 


You  begin  to  imagine  that  some  of  your  ribs  are  broken 
and  that  your  hip-joints  are  dislocated,  so  you  get  out  and 
walk  on  ahead  for  some  distance  and  sit  down  by  the  road- 
side to  wait  for  your  "pullman  car"  to  overtake  you.  Usu- 
ally one  travels  by  night  in  bullock-carts,  because  when  one 


34         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

gets  used  to  the  shouting  and  bumping  one  can  sleep  and 
forget. 

There  is  yet  another  quite  common  way  of  getting  about 
the  country,  that  is  to  be  carried  by  coolies.  Two  long  bam- 
boo poles  are  tied  one  on  each  side  of  an  ordinary  dining- 
room  chair.  Seated  in  this  chair  four  men  will  carry  their 
passenger  high  in  the  air,  placing  the  poles  on  their  should- 
ers. There  are  also  chairs  called  "dandies"  made  especially 
for  the  purpose  of  carrying  people.  Some  of  them  can  be 
quite  comfortable.  Then  there  is  the  "palke,"  or  palanquin, 
a  box-like  affair  with  a  pole  sticking  out  at  each  end.  This 
also  is  carried  by  four  men. 

At  first  it  rather  goes  against  the  grain  to  be  carried  by 
your  fellowmen.  You  do  not  like  the  idea  at  all.  The  only 
cure  for  that  feeling  is  walking.  You  follow  the  men  car- 
rying the  empty  chair  for  a  mile  or  two,  perhaps  under  the 
hot  Indian  sun.  Little  by  little  you  find  your  scruples  van- 
ishing. When  the  question  is  reduced  to  the  alternative  of 
dying  from  heat  apoplexy  far  away  from  home  and  native 
land,  or  being  carried  by  some  coolies,  who  are  used  to 
that  kind  of  work  and  even  make  a  living  by  it,  then  it  is 
wonderful  how  fast  one's  ideas  change  and  adjust  them- 
selves to  circumstances. 

Once  I  had  to  go  to  the  railway  station  twenty  miles 
away.  It  was  in  the  rainy  season.  My  pony  was  dead.  I 
had  no  alternative.  It  was  either  walk,  or  get  people  to 
carry  me. 

There  was  an  old  "dandy"  in  the  veranda  of  our  bunga- 
low, an  heirloom  of  some  kind  which  a  predecessor  had 
left.  We  repaired  it  a  little  and  thought  it  would  be  all 
right  to  use.  I  engaged  eight  carriers  so  that  they  might 
change  off,  and  started  before  daylight.  This  was  my  first 
experience  of  being  carried  by  men. 


MODES  OF  TRAVEL. 


35 


About  seven  miles  from  home,  as  we  were  going  along 
at  a  good  rate  and  I  was  enjoying  the  beautiful  morning, 
crash  went  the  dandy.  I  found  myself  on  my  seat  of  honor 
in  the  middle  of  the  road  with  the  bearers  standing  about 
gazing  at  me  in  open  mouthed  astonishment. 

Over  the  remains  of  the  "dandy"  we  held  a  short  in- 
quest, the  verdict  of  which  was  that  if  we  were  to  get  to 


CARRIED  IN  A  DANDY. 

the  railway  station  at  all  it  would  not  be  in  this  conveyance. 
It  was  a  total  wreck.  Like  the  famous  "One  Horse  Shay," 
it  went  all  to  pieces  and  beyond  repairs. 

There  was  a  Hindu  village  near  by.  \Ye  brought  the 
wrecked  dandy  along  as  evidence  and  proceeded  to  the 
house  of  the  village  constable.  He  and  his  family  came  out 


36         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

and  salaamed.  \Ye  addressed  him.  He  saw  our  plight. 
Would  he  lend  us  a  little  bedstead  or  a  stool,  or  some  con- 
trivance, so  that  we  might  proceed  on  our  journey? 

O  dear  no !  he  was  a  poor  man  and  had  no  beds.  Both 
he  and  his  children  had  to  sleep  on  the  floor.  \Ye  should 
have  to  excuse  him.  \Ye  might  ask  the  village  headman. 


THE  PALKE. 

perhaps  he  was  able  to  help  us,  but  as  to  him,  he  was  so 
very  poor ! 

The  bearers,  however,  would  not  take  no  for  an  answer. 
They  entered  his  yard  and  returned  with  a  small  bedstead 
just  suitable  for  our  purpose,  and  a  pair  of  long  poles. 
These  things  they  held  up  before  him  while  they  gave  ex- 
pression of  their  opinions,  both  of  the  constable  and  his 


MODES  OF  TRAVEL.  37 

forefathers,  for  not  being  willing  to  help  a  Saheb  when  he 
was  in  need.  This  lecture  and  a  little  coin  put  into  his 
palm  limbered  him  up  to  such  a  degree  that  I  am  sure  we 
could  have  taken  all  his  beds  and  all  his  poles.  Nothing  he 
had  was  to  good  for  us  now. 

\Ye  were  soon  under  way  again  in  our  new  conveyance. 
But  I  must  tell  you  what  a  bedstead  is.  It  is  a  wooden  frame 
with  a  post  or  leg  in  each  corner.  Over  this  framework 
twine  is  stretched  or  woven  in  a  clever  way  and  the  bed  is 
ready.  A  mat  or  a  blanket  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  spread 
over  the  closely-woven  bottom  to  make  it  quite  comfort- 
able. 

A  bed  is  called  a  "charpoi"  in  Hindustani.  "Char" 
means  four  and  *'poi"  means  feet.  A  story  is  told  of  a  Ben- 
gali babu  who  was  in  some  sort  of  government  service. 
On  being  transferred  to  another  location  he  brought  all  his 
goods  and  chattels  to  the  railway  station  to  have  them  sent 
by  train.  Besides  knowing  a  little  English  he  had  learned 
enough  Latin  to  translate  ''charpoi"  literally.  So  he  put 
on  the  list  of  things  to  be  sent,  a  "Quadruped."  He  was 
greatly  astonished  when  the  European  station-master  in- 
formed him  that  animals  could  not  be  sent  by  that  train. 

Of  course,  if  one  is  rich  he  can  keep  an  elephant.  From 
ancient  times  elephants  have  been  the  steeds  of  royalty  in 
India.  If  you  are  on  friendly  terms  with  a  rajah  in  your 
neighborhood  he  will  lend  you  an  ekphant  now  and  then. 
Elephant-riding  is  all  right  if  you  do  not  take  too  much  of 
it  at  a  time. 

Once  while  out  in  camp  we  went  to  visit  a  few  Chri- 
stian families  living  back  among  the  hills,  where  there  were 
no  roads.  \Ye  arranged  to  have  an  elephant  take  us  back 
in  the  evening  to  our  camp.  It  was  a  big,  lumbering,  good- 
natured  animal.  His  master,  the  so-called  "mahut,"  could 


38         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

make  him  perform  several  tricks.  On  a  command  from 
the  "mahut  the  elephant  would  curl  his  trunk  upward, 
touch  his  forehead  and  bow  to  you.  That  was  his  greeting 
or  salaam.  Fie  would  also  throw  his  trunk  back  and  open 
his  mouth  and  let  you  examine  his  teeth.  And  a  good  solid 
set  he  had !  Then  he  would  let  the  mahut  do  some  aero- 


CLIMBING  UP  ON  THE  ELEPHANT. 

batic  performances  on  his  long  white  tusks.  Of  course  he 
was  entitled  to  a  few  lumps  of  sugar  after  these  perform- 
ances. 

When  we  were  to  mount,  the  mahut  ordered  the  ele- 
phant to  lie  down.  This  he  did  by  putting  his  forefeet  for- 
ward and  his  hindlegs  backwards,  and  sinking  slowly  to  the 


MODES  OP  TRAVEL. 


39 


ground.  Then  a  great  mattress,  or  pad,  was  placed  on  his 
back  and  tied  with  stout  ropes.  When  everything  was  ready 
the  mahut  asked  us  to  mount.  This  was  more  easily  said 
than  done.  But  the  mahut  rose  to  the  occasion.  Standing 
on  one  of  the  hind  legs,  which  protruded  like  a  log  from 
under  the  great  body,  he  caught  the  elephant's  tail  and  held 
it  so  that  it  formed  a  loop.  Then  he  told  us  to  step  on  to 


the  other  hindleg  and  from  there  by  putting  a  foot  into 
the  loop  and  catching  hold  of  the  ropes,  to  climb  up.  By 
following  these  instructions  and  recieving  a  little  assistance, 
my  wife  managed  to  get  settled  on  the  broad  back  of  the 
elephant.  After  her,  our  daughter  and  I  scrambled  up  in 
turn. 


40  SKETCHES  PROM  SAXTALISTAX. 

With  the  mahut  in  front  and  our  whole  family  on 
his  back,  the  elephant  must  have  felt  quite  crowded. 
With  a  groan  he  began  to  move.  First  one  end  was  raised, 
then  the  other.  We  clung  to  the  ropes  for  dear  life.  Tha£ 
is  the  older  members  of  the  family  did ;  the  younger  one 
clung  to  her  father  and  shouted :  "Let  me  down  or  I  shall 
faint."  But  it  was  to  late,  the  great  body  had  begun  to 
move.  Confidence  was  soon  restored  and  we  had  an  en- 
joyable time. 

Passing  through  the  jungle  the  elephant  would  avoid 
all  low  branches  -  -  which,  if  he  had  passed  under  them, 
would  have  swept  us  off  his  back  or,  worse  yet,  left  us 
suspended,  like  Absalom!  but  when  he  passed  under  a  ban- 
yan tree  he  invariably  broke  off  a  branch  or  two  to  chew 
as  he  walked  along. 

Presently  we  came  to  a  stream.  Very  carefully  he 
climbed  down  the  steep  bank.  In  the  middle  of  the  stream 
he  stopped  to  have  a  drink.  He  put  his  trunk  into  the 
water,  sucked  in  a  few  gallons,  opened  his  mouth  and  squirt- 
ed the  water  down  into  his  cavernous  stom?ch.  When  he 
had  satisfied  the  cravings  of  his  inside  he  thought  of  his  out- 
side. A  bath  suggested  itself  to  his  mind  and  he  at  once 
started  to  take  one.  It  was  a  shower  bath.  Had  not  the 
mahut  protested  in  time  we  should  all  have  been  included 
in  it,  but,  as  it  was,  we  got  only  a  few  stray  drops.  At 
sunset  wre  arrived  at  the  rest-house.  There  our  animal 
laid  down  again  and  we  slid  to  the  ground. 


rw  'f?T7  W*  >'  *  >'  «  >"  >  >'  -  >'  v  >•  v  >'  v  >'  v  'f  ¥  ^^^p^T^pT'W^ 

tviyT>TxTYiv^t>^i>-rKT>'H^T>rtxi^T7.'»Ta^i^^ 


QSBljLK4«4>(ii'4' tSi-.ll ••     •     •     •  :  t'4*4>  4-!-jh-*- 


SERVANTS. 


One  of  the  necessary  evils  a  European  in  India  has  to 
put  up  with  is  servants.  He  needs  them  to  look  after  his 
comforts.  The  great  trouble  is  that  he  has  to  have  such  a 
number  of  them.  At  home  one  single  girl  will  do  nearly  all 
the  work  of  an  entire  household,  while  out  here  about  a 
dozen  men  are  required. 

First  you  must  have  a  cook.  All  over  the  world  the 
cook  is  an  important  person,  but  in  this  land  his  importance 
is  almost  majestic.  It  would  not  do  to  address  him  as  His 
Exellency;  His  Majesty  would  be  more  proper.  And  if  he 
gives  you  good  things  to  eat  you  will  have  no  objection  to 
addressing  him  in  any  term  that  will  suit  him,  or  his  posi- 
tion. 

The  jungle  missionary  lives  in  a  straw-thatched  bunga- 
low, behind  which  are  a  few  small  houses.  One  of  these 
is  the  kitchen.  There  the  cook  reigns  supreme.  You  will 
look  in  vain  for  a  cook  stove  or  range.  All  you  will  find 
is  an  open  fireplace  and  a  few  pots  and  pans.  However, 
that  does  not  hinder  him  in  the  exploitation  of  his  art.  He 
will  send  up  to  your  table  a  dish  that  tastes  and  looks  like 

41 


42 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAX. 


beef  steak,  and  yet  you  know  all  the  time  that  you  are 
eating  chicken.  Beef  is  to  be  had  only  in  the  large  cities. 
Yes,  and  what  is  more,  he  can  with  a  little  anchovy  sauce 
and  some  tricks  of  his  trade  cause  the  white  meat  of  a 
chicken  to  appear  like  fish. 


SERVANTS. 

There  is  almost  no  end  to  his  inventions.  Especially  in 
connection  with  chicken,  he  is  a  perfect  juggler.  Small 
wonder  that  he  is  so  important !  The  welfare  of  the  whole 
family  is  in  his  hands. 


SERVANTS. 


43 


The  cook  has  to  have  an  assistant.  He  is  called  "pani- 
walla,"  or  water  carrier.  With  a  bamboo  pole,  from  which 
are  suspended  a  pair  of  earthenware  vessels  or  a  pair  of 
empty  kerosene  tins,  across  his  shoulders,  he  goes  to  the 
spring  or  well  or  pond  as  the  case  may  be  for  the  daily 
supply  of  water.  Then  he  has  to  make  the  fire,  chop  wood, 


THE  PANIWALLA, 

scour  pots  and  pans,  in  short,  do  most  of  the  work  of  the 
cook  at  whose  beck  and  call  he  must  always  be.  There  is 
more  work  than  dignity  connected  with  his  position. 

Next,  there  is  the  bearer,  or  house  servant.  This  man 
has  to  keep  the  house  in  order  and  wait  on  the  table.  Usu- 
ally his  work  does  not  keep  him  long.  He  finds  lots  of  time 


44         SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTALISTAX. 

to  hang  about  the  kitchen  or  to  try  to  work  the  tickle  out 
of  his  tongue  with  his  particular  crony  in  the  shade  of 
some  mango  tree  in  the  compound.  Yet  if  you  call  him 
he  is  at  your  elbow  almost  in  an  instant,  ready  to  do  your 
bidding. 

Next  to  claim  your  attention  is  the  Dhoby.  You  must 
have  heard  of  the  Dhoby.  He  is  the  famous  washerman  of 
India.  On  Monday  morning  he  calls  for  the  wash  and  Sa- 
turday evening  he  brings  it  back  clean,  crisp,  starched  and 
ironed.  He  brings  it  in  a  big  bundle  on  his  back,  except 
when  it  is  very  heavy ;  then  his  wife  brings  the  bundle  on 
her  head.  It  isn't  the  style  here  for  men  to  carry  anything 
on  their  heads. 

The  washerman  takes  your  clothes  to  the  pond,  and  by 
a  dexterous  set  of  manipulations  perfected  by  generation 
after  generation  of  Dhobies,  dips  the  dirty  garment  into 
the  dirty  water  and  beats  it  against  a  dirty  stone  with  the 
result  that  he  can  deliver  it  to  you  clean.  It  is  quite  a 
sight  to  see  a  number  of  Dhobies  at  w-ork  about  a  pond 
beating  clothes  against  stones.  When  Mark  Twain  first 
saw  them  he  thought  they  were  trying  to  crack  the  stones 
with  wet  clothes. 

The  Dhoby  neither  gives  nor  implies  any  guarantee  not 
to  tear  your  garments  or  to  pound  any  buttons  to  pieces. 
The  owner  has  to  take  all  those  risks. 

If  you  have  a  horse  it  is  also  necessary  for  you  to  keep 
a  servant  called  a  "syce."  The  name  is  Hindustani  and 
several  ''sizes"  too  small  for  the  position.  His  work  is  to 
look  after  the  horse,  clean  it,  feed  it,  and  saddle  it  when  the 
master  calls  for  it. 

If  he  is  a  member  of  the  Hindu  caste  whose  caste- work 
it  is  to  take  care  of  horses,  the  "syce"  will  want  a  helper 
to  do  the  work  for  him.  It  would  be  belowr  him  to  go  out 


SERVANTS. 


45 


and  cut  an  armful  of  grass  for  the  horse.  He  must  have 
a  man  of  a  lower  caste  to  do  the  work.  In  the  meantime 
the  "syce"  wrill  sit  on  his  heels  and  smoke  his  "huka"  and 
draw  his  pay. 

Often  it  is  not  possible  for  a  missionary  to  get  a  pro- 
per supply  of  milk  from  the  village,  he  must  keep  his  own 


VILLAGE  WASHER-MAN  OR  DHOBY. 

cows.  If  he  has  cows  he  must  also  have  a  cowman  to  take 
care  of  them.  The  cowman's  duties  are  to  feed  the  cosvs, 
herd  them,  bring  them  to  the  back  door  of  the  bungalow 
morning  and  evening  and  milk  them. 

In  America,  milking  a  cow  is  not  regarded  as  a  very 
difficult  operation.     Nearly  everybody  in   the  country  di- 


46  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAX. 

stricts  knows  how  to  milk.  Out  here  in  Santalistan  it  is 
quite  different.  You  need  only  to  watch  the  cowman  once 
to  find  that  out.  First  the  milch-cow  is  brought  and  tied 
to  a  post,  and  a  pail  of  feed  is  put  before  her.  Then  to 
prevent  her  kicking,  the  cowman  ties  both  her  hind  legs 
together —  that  is  if  she  is  a  kicker.  These  preliminaries 
ready,  the  calf  is  brought.  No  cow  will  give  her  milk 
without  having  her  calf  with  her.  When  the  calf  has 
sucked  a  while  the  cowman's  assistant  drags  it  away,  and 
the  cowman  proceeds  to  extract  the  balance  of  the  milk, 
often  under  the  most  violent  protest  from  the  cow.  To 
make  up  a  single  quart  of  milk  several  cows  are  often  cal- 
led upon  to  contribute.  The  small  Santal  cow  is  a  better 
fighter  than  milker. 

If  the  calf  dies  the  cow  will  not  let  herself  be  milked. 
The  cowman  will  then  try  a  ruse.  He  will  stuff  the  skin 
of  the  dead  calf,  mount  it  on  legs  and  bring  it  out  at  milk- 
ingtime  for  the  poor  mother  to  look  and  smell  at.  The  ruse 
is  often  successful  and  the  sight  of  the  stuffed  calf  will 
make  the  cow  give  her  milk. 

We  have  named  only  the  most  important  servants  as  we 
find  them  in  the  humble  bungalow  of  the  jungle  missionary. 
In  large  and  wealthy  households  there  is  simply  no  limit  to 
the  number  of  servants  employed. 

But  why  keep  so  many? 

Again  we  run  up  against  the  influence  of  the  caste  sys- 
tem. A  man  born  a  sweeper  must  remain  a  sweeper.  A 
man  born  a  cook  must  remain  a  cook.  It  is  the  work  of 
his  caste.  No  one  else  will  do  his  work,  neither  will  he  do 
the  work  of  others.  In  short,  this  is  a  land  of  specialists. 

Apart  from  this  reason  more  people  are  really  required 
to  attend  to  the  work  of  a  household  in  this  country  be- 
cause everything  is  so  unhandy.  Water  often  has  to  be 


SERVANTS. 


4.7 


brought  from  a  long  ways  off.  Grass  for  the  horses  and 
cows  the  same.  Owing  to  the  hot  climate  many  of  the  sup- 
plies can  only  be  kept  in  small  quantities.  For  the  same 
reason  food  cannot  very  well  be  kept  over  from  one  day  to 
the  next,  something  which  involves  both  extra  work  and 
waste. 


MILKING  A  COW. 


To  take  care  of  a  house  properly  also  means  a  great 
deal  more  work  than  at  home.  The  white  ants  are  very  de- 
structive. They  work  while  you  sleep.  Every  corner  of 
the  house  must  be  watched  daily  for  signs  of  their  activity. 
Every  hole  and  crevice  becomes  the  hidingplace  of  reptiles 
and  insects.  Hosts  of  creeping,  flying,  jumping  things 
will  take  up  their  abode  with  you  if  you  are  not  on  the 
alert. 

In  a  well  ordained  household  the  servants  are  required 


48  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

to  wear  a  sort  of  livery  or  uniform.  If  this  rule  were  not 
enforced,  they  would  perhaps  in  the  hot  weather  appear 
with  nothing  on  but  a  strip  of  loincloth.  The  house  servants 
usually  wear  a  long  white  coat,  or  rather  a  combination  be- 
tween a  coat  and  a  nightshirt.  On  their  heads  they  wear 
a  turban  called  a  puggree.  To  wind  a  turban  properly  is 
quite  an  art.  They  take  a  piece  of  thin  muslin  cloth  some 
fifteen  yards  long  and  wind  it  about  their  heads  in  any 
shape  they  might  fancy.  There  are  as  many  shapes  and 
fashions  of  servant's  turbans  out  here  as  there  are  shapes 
and  fashions  of  women's  headgear  at  home. 

The  outdoor  servants  wear  jackets,  the  style,  shape  ancl 
color  of  which  is  usually  left  to  their  own  fancy. 

But  this  reminds  me — . 

Some  time  ago  I  paid  a  short  visit  to  a  neighbor  mis- 
sionary. It  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  cold  season  and  the 
evenings  were  delightful.  We  sat  out  on  the  steps  in  front 
of  the  bungalow  and  watched  the  stars  being  lit.  "We  talked 
about  home  and  our  dear  ones  far  across  the  seas  and 
exchanged  experiences  in  our  work.  After  a  while  con- 
versation drifted  on  to  other  subjects  and  we  fell  to  talk- 
ing about  servants. 

The  missionary's  wife  told  the  foHowing  story :  "Some 
years  ago  high  sleeves  were  the  fashion  in  women's  dresses. 
Last  time  we  were  home  on  furlough,  I  brought  with  me 
several  waists  of  that  style.  They  were  too  heavy  and 
warm  for  this  country  and  I  did  not  use  them  much  so  they 
got  motheaten.  One  day  in  the  rainy  season  I  looked  them 
over  and  found  that  they  were  eaten  beyond  repair,  so  I 
threw  them  away. 

During  the  following  cold  season  we  went  to  Calcutta 
to  meet  some  friends  and  bring  them  out  to  our  station  for 
a  short  visit.  We  ordered  our  syce  to  bring  the  horse  and 


SEEVAXTS. 


49 


carriage  to  the  railway  station  on  a  certain  day  when  we 
would  arrive  with  our  guests.  Imagine  my  mortification 
when  on  alighting  from  the  train  our  syce  comes  up  to  us 
salaaming  very  politely,  arrayed  in  one  of  my  castaway 
motheaten,  highsleeved  waists ! 

Every  European  in  India  will  have  to  learn,  sometimes 


THE  VILLAGE  BARBER. 


through  costly  experience,  that  all  servants  are  not  quite 
honest,  at  least  not  so  honest  as  they  profess  to  be.  The 
first  servant  we  engaged  was  a  Madrassy,  that  is,  a  man 
from  the  Madras  presidency.  \Ye  engaged  him  on  the  re- 
commendation of  older  missionaries  and  because  he  could 
talk  a  little  English.  He  had  to  have  one  month's  wages  in 


50 


SKK'JVHKS 


SAXTALISTAN. 


advance.  Well,  after  being  with  us  four  or  five  days  he 
dissapeared  into  the  mystic  Indian  night  and  we  have  never 
seen  him  since. 

You  have  to  learn  by  experience  how  to  deal  with  serv- 
ants.    When  you  are  a  stranger  they  usually  take  you  in. 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  THE  WELL. 


THE    MISSIONARY   AS   A    DOCTOR. 


A  missionary  out  in  the  jungle,  far  away  from  doctors 
and  hospitals  will  by  necessity  be  driven  to  "practice  medi- 
cine," no  matter  whether  he  likes  to  or  not.  People  find 
their  way  to  him  with  their  complaints.  He  is  their  father 
and  mother,  he  must  help  them.  As  to  his  ability  to  help 
they  have  no  doubt,  for  is  he  not  a  Saheb?  And  Sahebs 
know  everything. 

When  people  have  become  Christians  they  have,  of 
course  no  more  faith  in  their  old  medicinemen  and  cannot 
employ  them.  Their  medicines  are  given  in  connection  with 
offerings  to  the  "Bongas,"  or  evil  spirits,  and  that  practice 
of  course,  is  out  of  the  question  for  Christians.  Therefore 
when  there  is  sickness  in  the  Christian  native  family  they 
naturally  turn  to  the  missionary.  He  must  help  them.  And 
so  it  happens  that  the  missionary  and  his  wife  must  "rush 
in  where  angels  fear  to  tread."  They  must  begin  to  "prac- 
tice." 

First  you  send  for  some  manual  of  medicine. 

People  tell  you  that  homeopathic  medicines  are  the  best 
for  you  to  use.  They  are  cheap  and  easy  to  take.  Only 

51 


52         SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTAL1STAX. 

three  drops  in  a  little  water,  and  yon  do  not  run  any  risk 
of  overdosing  your  patients.  If  it  does  not  cure  it  certainly 
doesn't  kill,  and  that  a  great  consolation,  because  direc- 
tions are  not  always  followed  out  as  carefully  as  they 
should  be. 

Two  men  once  came  to  the  missionary  to  consult  him 
about  their  grandmother's  uncle's  sister-in-law,  or  what- 
ever the  relation  was,  that  is  only  a  matter  of  minor  detail. 
Well,  they  explained  their  relation's  symptoms  and  ans- 
wered all  questions  the  missionary  put  to  them.  They  had 
brought  a  bottle,  a  thing  patients  often  fail  to  do,  --  ex- 
pecting the  Saheb  to  furnish  them  with  one.  There  was 
a  crack  however  in  the  bottle,  they  had  brought ;  but  on 
their  assuring  him  that  it  did  not  leak  he  thought  it  would 
do.  He  then  filled  it  half  full  of  water,  counted  into  it  27 
drops  of  homeopathic  fluid,  and  told  them  to  give  the  pa- 
tient an  oystershell  full  three  times  a  day  for  three  days 
and  after  that  to  return  for  more.  They  made  salaams  and 
were  off. 

On  the  way  home  through  some  accident  the  crack 
opened  so  that  the  bottle  began  to  leak.  They  sat  down  by 
the  roadside  and  held  a  consultation.  What  was  to  be  done? 
The  precious  medicine  was  slowly  dripping  away  without 
doing  anyone  a  bit  of  good.  The  medicine  would  be  wasted 
and  they  would  have  their  long  walk  for  nothing.  Rather 
than  lose  it  they  decided  then  and  there  to  drink  it  them- 
selves. So  each  drank  half  of  the  contents  of  the  bottle 
and  was  none  the  worse  for  it. 

One  objection  to  the  giving  of  homeopathic  medicine  to 
ablebodied  Santals  is  that  it  tastes  very  little  different  from 
water.  In  fact  it  is  hard  for  them  to  believe  that  it  is  med- 
icine ai  ail.  For  such  cases  one  must  give  Pain  Killer  or 
some  similar  strong  decoction.  One  takes  a  spoonful  of 


54         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

this,  mixes  a  little  quinine  into  it,  and  gives  it  to  the  pa- 
tient in  a  little  cold  water.  The  patient  will  shed  a  few 
tears,  the  taste  will  abide  with  him  all  day,  but  he  will  nev- 
er for  a  moment  doubt  that  it  was  a  dose  of  real  medicine 
he  took.  Often  after  such  a  dose  the  patient  will  clear  his 
throat,  wipe  his  eyes  and  say,  ''This  ought  to  cure  me." 

But  I  must  tell  you  about  Puchia.  He  and  his  family 
had  been  Christians  for  about  a  year  and  during  that  time 
every  thing  had  gone  well  with  them.  But  one  day  he  sent 
word  to  the  mission  that  he  was  very  sick  and  asked  us  to 
send  him  some  medicine.  As  we  did  not  know  what  was 
ailing  him  we  sent  one  of  the  preachers  over  to  diagnose 
the  case.  He  found  that  Puchia  was  suffering  from  fever, 
a  cold,  and  an  attack  of  colic.  Medicine  was  prepared  to 
meet  all  these  symptoms.  Directions  were  given  that  the 
Pain  Killer  should  be  taken  at  once  to  relieve  his  stomach, 
in  a  couple  of  hours  he  should  take  a  fever-reducing  draught 
and  when  the  hot  stage  was  passed  he  should  take  a  dose 
of  quinine.  This  last  was  to  be  repeated  daily  for  three 
days. 

After  taking  the  Pain  Killer  Puchia  felt  better,  so 
much  so  that  he  was  able  to  begin  to  reason  with  himself, 
that,  if  one  dose  of  the  medicine  helped  him  so  much,  it 
was  only  reasonable  to  expect  that  if  he  took  them  all  at 
once  he  would  get  well  all  the  sooner. 

He  then  asked  his  wife  to  fetch  him  all  the  medicines. 
Although  she  protested,  he  drank  all  the  aconite  in  the 
bottle,  ate  all  the  quinine  we  had  put  up  for  him,  and  then 
turned  over  on  his  mat  and  went  to  sleep.  This  was  in 
the  morning.  All  that  day  and  the  following  night  he 
slept.  The  next  day  towards  noon  he  awoke  completely 
cured.  He  never  tired  of  extolling  the  power  of  the  mis- 
sionary's medicine. 


THE  MISSIONARY  AS  A  DOCTOR.  55 

One  soon  becomes  familiar  with  certain  common  re- 
current complaints  and  their  remedies.  There  is  a  skin  dis- 
ease, or  itch,  very  common  in  the  cold  season,  when  people 
do  not  bathe  as  often  as  they  should.  One  finds  that  it 
yields  to  treatment  with  sulphur,  and  people  are  very  thank- 
ful to  get  rid  of  it. 

About  four  and  a  half  million  people  die  every  year  in 
India  from  malaria.  For  this  there  is  one  principal  remedy 
quinine.  And  it  is  easy  to  administer,  as  the  Government 
prepares  it  and  sells  it  at  all  the  postoffices  throughout  the 
land.  It  is  put  up  in  little  envelopes  containing  one  dose, 
and  each  costing  half  a  cent.  But  quinine  is  bitter  and  very 
few  people  think  it  palatable,  therefore  one  must  see  that 
one's  patients  take  it.  It  is  always  safest  to  have  them  take 
it  in  your  presence. 

Sometimes  people  bring  their  blind  to  the  missionary 
asking  him  to  restore  their  eyesight,  or  their  deaf  ones, 
with  the  request  that  their  hearing  might  be  restored. 
When  they  come  thus  one  always  gets  a  chance  to  speak  to 
them  about  the  Great  Healer  who  has  come  to  heal  all  their 
diseases. 

There  is  no  end  to  the  variety  of  cases  brought  in.  There 
are  boils  to  be  opened,  sores  to  be  cleansed  and  bandaged, 
and  broken  bones  to  be  set.  One  must  do  his  best  to  help 
relieve  their  sufferings.  After  awhile  the  Mem  Saheb  will 
specialize  on  women's  and  children's  diseases,  and  the  Sa- 
heb on  the  men's  ills  and  the  surgical  cases. 

One  day  a  man  living  eight  miles  from  the  mission  sta- 
tion having  heard  of  the  wonderful  power  of  the  missionar- 
ies brought  his  case  to  the  Mem  Saheb.  The  difficulty  was 
this:  A  few  days  previously  his  buffalo  cow  had  calved. 
And  though  it  was  her  own  offspring,  she  was  so  perverse 


56 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANT  ALT  STAN. 


and  so  unnatural  a  mother  that  she  refused  to  suckle  it. 
Could  the  Mem  Saheb  give  him  some  medicine  that  would 
make  the  cow  suckle  her  calf? 

The  Mem  Stheb  was  sorry  she  had  no  cattle  medicine. 
The  man  had  to  return  with  an  empty  bottle. 


BARBER  PARING  TOE-NAILS. 


THE    MISSIONARY   AS   A    PEACE-MAKER. 


A  missionary  among  a  childish  people  like  the  Santals 
soon  learns  that  his  work  is  not  finished  when  he  has 
preached  his  sermon  on  Sunday.  He  must  not  only  be  their 
religious  teacher  hut  their  guide  to  better  things  in  every 
field.  His  relation  to  his  flock  will  be  like  that  of  a  father 
to  his  children.  If  they  are  sick  they  come  to  the  mission- 
ary, if  they  are  in  want  he  is  their  refuge.  So  also  when 
they  quarrel,  to  the  missionary  they  come  with  their  com- 
plaints. 

Early  this  morning  the  whole  adult  male  population 
from  one  of  the  nearest  villages  arrived  and  asked  to  have 
a  little  talk  with  the  Padre.  The  headman  came  forward 
and  said : 

"For  two  days  we  have  tried  to  settle  a  dispute  between 
Lalu  and  Karan,  but  without  success,  now  we  have  brought 
them  here  to  ask  you  if  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  help 
us." 

Karan  and  Lalu  came  forward  and  on  being  asked  what 
the  trouble  was  between  them,  they  both  started  to  talk  at 
once  and  evidently  laboring  under  the  illusion  that  the  Pad- 

57 


58  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAN. 

re  was  deaf.  During  a  little  lull  in  their  vociferous  expost- 
ulations the  Padre  got  a  chance  to  ask : 

"Who  told  you  I  was  deaf  ?" 

"No  one  has  told  us  that,"  was  the  reply. 

''Now  don't  you  try  to  fool  me,"  the  Padre  continued, 
"someone  must  have  tried  to  slander  me  and  told  you  that 
I  was  almost  stone  deaf  and  that  you  had  to  shout  at  the 
top  of  your  voices  to  make  me  hear.  Do  tell  me  the  name 
of  the  rascal  and  I  shall  make  him  limp.  --  I  can  hear  as 
well  as  any  of  you." 

These  or  similar  remarks  usually  break  the  spell,  the 
excitement  subsides  and  one  can  get  down  to  business. 

In  this  case  it  appeared  that  Karan  had  lent  Lalu  30 
cents  a  year  and  a  half  ago.  For  this  sum  Karan  was  to 
have  the  privilege  of  using  one  of  Lalu's  fields  for  three 
years.  The  headman  and  several  neighbors  were  witnes- 
ses to  the  transaction.  Karan  had  worked  the  field  one 
year  and  was  beginning  to  prepare  it  for  the  second  year's 
planting  when  Lalu  went  to  the  field  and  forbid  him  to 
touch  it.  Lalu  wanted  to  work  his  own  field  after  this. 
Hot  words  fell  on  both  sides  but,  fortunately,  they  did  not 
come  to  blows. 

In  the  Santal  Parganas  this  transaction  is  illegal.  A 
Santal  has  no  right  to  sell  the  use  of  his  fields  in  this  way, 
and  if  such  cases  are  brought  into  the  courts  both  parties 
are  liable  to  be  punished. 

Lalu  was  asked  why  he  had  backed  out  of  his  part  of 
the  contract.  He  replied  that  he  thought  Karan  had  got 
much  more  than  the  amount  he  lent  him  from  the  one  crop 
he  had  reaped. 

Karan  was  then  asked  to  show  how  much  paddy  he  had 
raised  on  the  field  last  year.  He  gave  the  amount,  and 
when  the  cost  of  working  the  field  was  deducted  a  net  pro- 


THE  MISSIONARY  AS  A  PEACE-MAKER.  59 

fit  of  25  cents  was  left.  This  left  a  balance  of  five  cents 
of  the  loan  besides  interest  for  a  year  and  a  half. 

"For  what  purpose  did  you  borrow  the  money,  Lalu?" 

"My  cows  were  put  in  the  pound  and  1  had  to  pay 
damages  to  get  them  out,"  was  the  reply. 

"Karan  helped  you  when  you  was  in  trouble.  You  give 
him  your  word  of  honor  as  a  man  that  he  could  have  the 
use  of  this  field  for  three  years,  but  after  he  had  used  it 
only  one  year  you  not  only  break  your  promise  but  drive 
him  from  the  field.  This  is  not  a  man's  act  but  that  of  a 
child.  You  promise  to  pay  Karan  the  balance  of  the  debt 
next  fall,  but,  will  he  believe  you?  You  have  proved  before 
all  of  us  how  much  your  word  is  to  be  depended  on.  You 
have  broken  your  word  once,  you  are  able  to  do  so  again. 
Apart  from  the  fact  that  your  transaction  is  illegal,  three 
years  is  too  long  a  time.  Two  years  would  have  been 
ample.  Karan  ought  not  to  have  taken  advantage  of  his 
neighbor  when  he  was  in  need.  Christ  has  told  us  that  we 
should  love  one  another  and  help  each  other  in  time  of 
need. 

Lalu  was  asked  to  pay  the  balance  of  his  debt  in  the 
presence  of  the  assembly.  He  managed  to  raise  the  re- 
quired sum,  paid  it  over,  peace  was  restored  and  the  two 
men  promised  never  to  quarrel  again. 

Domestic  quarrels  are  not  uncommon  and  calls  for 
both  delicate  and  diplomatic  treatment. 

A  few  evenings  ago  a  woman  came  to  tell  the  Padre 
that  she  was  not  going  to  live  with  her  husband  any  more 
She  said : 

''I  will  not  stay  with  that  brute  any  longer.  You  have 
married  me  to  him  and  now  you  must  release  me.  I  shall 
never  darken  that  man's  door  again.  The  world  is  big,  I 
can  go  anywhere,  but  back  to  him,  never,  never !" 


60         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

"What  has  happened?" 

"My  husband  abused  me,  called  me  a  witch  and  at  last 
he  gave  me  a  beating.  Look  at  my  shoulder  here  and  my 
arms  and  see  for  yourself. — I'll  never  go  back  to  him!" 

There  were  bruises  on  her  arms  and  one  of  her  shoud- 
ers,  which  bore  testimony  to  the  fact,  that  if  they  were 
inflicted  by  her  husband,  he  had  certainly  not  spared  the 
rod. 

The  woman  was  asked  to  spend  the  night  with  her 
brother  who  lived  in  the  nearest  village.  In  the  morning 
•her  case  would  be  looked  into.  Her  husband  would  be 
called  and  everything  done  to  straighten  matters  out. 

"But,  my  baby !  Why  doesn't  my  husband  bring  the 
•  baby  ?" 

"Let  the  baby  stay  with  its  father  tonight,  it  will  be 
quite  all  right.  You  stay  with  your  brother  tonight  and 
come  over  tomorrow  morning." 

At  dawn  the  next  morning  the  woman  was  at  the  mis- 
sion. Restlessly  she  walked  up  and  down  the  road  wait- 
ing for  her  husband  to  appear.  After  a  night  away  from 
her  baby  and  her  home,  things  began  to  look  different. 
When  the  husband  arrived,  it  was  but  the  work  of  a  few 
minutes  to  get  each  one  to  admit  his  share  of  the  blame 
and  to  ask  forgiveness.  Then  both  knelt  at  the  throne  of 
grace  and  asked  their  heavenly  Father  to  forgive  them. 

They  admitted  that  they  had  been  careless  of  late. 
Their  family  altar  had  been  neglected  and  they  had  become 
very  slack  in  church  going.  The  enemy  had  seen  his 
chance  to  get  in  between  them. 

They  said  goodbye  and  started  for  home.  The  husband 
walked  ahead  and  the  wife  with  her  child  astride  her  hip 
followed  five  or  six  paces  behind,  but  everybody  who  saw 
them  knew  that  they  went  home  to  live  their  second  honey- 
moon. 


SALKU    AND    HIS   PIG. 


A  Santal  village  is  quite  democratic  in  its  government, 
There  is  a  set  of  officers  generally  elected  by  the  villagers 
themselves.  The  leader  is  the  village  chief  or  headman, 
called  "Alanjhi."  He  has  an  assistant  called  "Paranik." 
There  is  also  a  village  messenger  and  a  priest  or  two.  Be- 
side these  there  is  yet  another  important  officer,  the  "Jog- 
Manjhi"  whose  duties  are  many  and  difficult  to  describe; 
suffice  it  to  say  that  he  is  more  or  less  responsible  for  the 
morals  of  the  young  people  in  the  village. 

Any  villager  can  bring  his  or  her  troubles  to  the  head- 
man, who  must  hear  them  patiently  and  if  he  finds  the 
case  of  sufficient  importance  he  will  send  the  messenger 
to  call  the  villagers  together  and  they  will  sit  on  the  case. 
Every  adult  residing  in  the  village  has  not  only  a  right  to 
a  seat  in  the  village  council  but  has  a  right  to  partake  in 
its  deliberations. 

After  hearing  a  case  the  village  assembly  will  pass 
judgement,  and  although  the  case  may  subsequently  be 
brought  into  the  law-courts  the  judge  or  magistrate  will  as 
a  rule  uphold  the  decision  of  the  village  assembly. 

61 


62 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAX. 


According  to  western  ideas  of  justice,  many  of  the 
decisions  of  the  village  council  are  queer,  but  as  long  as 
they  themselves  are  satisfied  and  their  troubles  are  settled 
peaceably,  why  should  outsiders  complain?  Naturally  it  is 
only  petty  cases  they  can  decide,  such  as  small  property 
cases,  social  questions,  and  matters  pertaining  to  witches. 
Litigation  of  this  kind  they  enjoy.  The  villagers  will  leave 


KL     •-    *  ^» x*i''**  {•  ™ i  -  >w :<  •ii-*  al**v>  .     s 

£Si*g^  :  ^^Ifem^ 


BRINGING  THE  PIG  HOME. 

their  work  and  sit  for  a  whole  day  discussing  from  every 
possible  and  impossible  standpoint  a  case  involving  the 
value  of  a  few  pennies. 

But  I  must  tell  you  about  Salku  and  his  pig. 

Salku  is  a  heathen  living  in  one  of  the  nearest  villages; 
Many  of  his  neighbors  and  relatives  have  become  Christ- 


SALKU  AND  HIS  PIG.  63 

ians,  but  he  has  always  hidden  behind  some  excuse.  How- 
ever, he  is  very  friendly  and  often  comes  to  the  mission. 

One  day  both  Salku  and  his  wife  came  to  us  in  great 
excitement.  They  complained  that  Sitol,  a  Christian  neigh- 
bor of  theirs,  had  killed  their  pig.  It  was  the  only  pig  they 
had,  and  they  were  very  much  attached  to  it  and  felt  the 
loss  keenly.  Would  not  the  missionary,  who  is  their  father 
and  mother,  compel  Sitol  to  give  them  another  pig,  a  live 
one  in  place  of  the  one  he  had  killed? 

Now  it  is  Santal  law  that  if  a  pig  strays  into  a  man's 
field  and  does  damage,  the  owner  of  the  field  is  at  liberty 
to  kill  the  pig  and  keep  the  head  and  one  forepart  for  him- 
self ;  the  rest  of  the  animal  he  must  make  over  to  the  owner. 
Among  neighbors  in  the  same  village,  however,  it  is  the , 
custom  to  warn  a  man  two  or  three  times,  and,  if  he  still 
persists  in  letting  his  pig  run  at  large,  it  will  subsequently 
be  killed. 

This  was  in  the  spring,  and  Sitol  had  just  planted  his 
corn.  Salku's  pig,  who  had  in  some  way  found  this  out, 
went  to  Sitol's  field,  started  to  root  out  the  corn  and  eat 
it.  Sitol  was  not  at  all  pleased  wih  this  performance.  He 
drove  the  pig  away  and  sent  word  to  its  owner  to  take  care 
of  it.  But  Sitol  had  no  sooner  returned  to  his  house  than 
the  pig  was  there  again  plowing  crooked  furrows  across 
his  cornfield. 

Sitol  lost  his  temper,  got  his  bow  and  arrows,  went  to 
the  field  and  the  result  was  that  Salku  lost  his  pig.  Hav- 
ing cut  away  his  rightful  share  Sitol  called  Salku  to  take 
away  what  was  left.  But  this  he  refused  to  do. 

He  said  to  Sitol:  "What  am  I  to  do  with  a  dead  pig? 
Give  me  a  live  one  as  good  as  the  one  you  have  killed, 
otherwise  I  will  go  to  the  Saheb  and  complain." 

Of  course,  there  was  no  settlement.     Sitol's  temper  was 


64 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


up  and  there  were  hot  words  on  both  sides,  so  they  left  the 
dead  pig  on  the  field  and  Salku  and  his  wife  came  to  the 
mission. 

After  asking  them  a  few  questions  as  to  how  it  all  came 
about,  I  told  them  that  the  best  thing  they  could  do  was  to 
go  home,  take  charge  of  their  parts  of  the  animal  and  say 


REMOVING  THE  BRISTLES. 

nothing  more  about  it.  Afterwards  I  would  investigate  the 
case,  and  if  Sitol  was  at  fault  we  would  compel  him  to 
make  good  the  loss. 

But  Salku  persisted  that  he  would  not  touch  the  dead 
pig.  What  he  wanted  was  a  live  one.  I  tried  to  tell  him 
that  a  pig,  like  a  miser,  was  no  good  to  anybody  until  it 


SALKU  AXD  HIS  PIG.  65 

was  dead.  But  all  my  arguments  were  in  vain.  Salku  knew 
what  he  wanted,  and  that  was  a  live  pig. 

''Well."  I  said,  "you  must  go  to  the  village  headman 
and  complain.  When  the  villagers  gather  to  hear  your  case 
1  will  send  some  of  my  men  over  to  help  you  and  see  that 
justice  is  done." 

The  same  afternoon  the  villagers  were  called  together 
and  the  trial  began.  In  the  examination  it  appeared  that 
Sitol  had  warned  his  neighbor  only  once  that  his  pig  was 
doing  damage.  That  was  wrong  of  him.  He  should  at 
least  have  warned  him  twice.  Therefore  he  was  guilty  of 
wrong-doing.  To  this  everybody  agreed. 

Sitol  was  found  guilty. 

The  next  question  to  be  settled  was  this :  What  right 
had  Salku  to  let  his  pig  run  at  large  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  when  people  were  putting  in  their  crops?  Everyone 
else  in  the  village  had  his  pigs  tied  or  herded.  All  agreed 
that  Salku  had  absolutely  no  right  to  let  his  pig  run  about 
at  its  own  pleasure. 

Salku  was  also  found  guilty. 

The  next  question  to  be  solved  was  whether  they  were 
both  equally  guilty,  or  if  one  offence  was  greater  than  the 
other. 

One  of  the  village  patriarchs  spoke  up  and  said:  "I 
think  they  are  both  equally  guilty.  They  have  both  done 
wrong  and  should  be  punished  equally." 

This  opinion  was  received  with  a  general  murmur  of 
assent.  The  headman  then  asked  in  what  the  punishment 
should  consist,  but,  as  no  one  ventured  to  propose  anything 
he  asked  three  of  the  village  fathers  to  go  aside  and  agree 
on  a  motion  to  lay  before  the  assembly.  After  a  short 
deliberation  they  returned  with  this  proposal  that  each  of 
the  two  litigants  should  pay  a  fine  of  one  rupee,  four 


66 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


annas,  a  sum  which  equals  about  forty  cents  in  American 
money. 

Such  fines  when  realized  are  as  a  rule  divided  equally 
among  the  villagers  who  took  part  in  the  case.  They  either 
divide  the  money,  or  buy  a  goat  or  a  pig  for  it  and  divide 
the  meat,  or — which  is  the  most  common  among  the 


FEASTING. 

heathen — they  go  to  the  nearest  drink  shop  and  buy  rice- 
beer  for  it.  But  according  to  Santal  ideas  it  is  neccessary 
that  such  fines  be  spent  in  eating  or  drinking,  so  that  the 
offence  may  be  removed.  The  sin  of  the  offender  is  "eaten" 
by  those  who  judged  him.  Afterwards  no  one  has  a  right 
to  throw  the  offence  into  his  face  again,  his  sin  has  been 


SALKU  AXD  HIS  PIG.  67 

eaten  and  digested,  as  they  express  it.  Should  any  one 
bring  up  the  offence  again  he  makes  himself  liable  to  pun- 
ishment by  his  fellow  villagers. 

But  there  was  yet  another  riddle  to  be  solved  before 
the  days  work  was  done.  What  was  to  be  done  with  the 
dead  pig? 

After  long  and  profound  deliberations  it  was  finally 
agreed  that  Sitol  should  return  the  part  he  had  taken  away 
and  that  the  whole  pig  should  be  divided  into  two  equal 
parts.  One  part  should  be  given  to  Sitol  and  the  other  to 
Salku.  Both  men  had  been  equally  guilty  of  wrong-doing, 
both  had  been  fined  equally,  therefore  it  was  only  just  that 
both  should  share  equally  in  the  pig.  The  fact  of  the  original 
ownership  of  the  pig  was  entirely  lost  in  the  deep  deliber- 
ations of  the  assembly. 

Sitol  took  the  part  decreed  to  him,  sold  enough  of  the 
meat  to  pay  his  fine  and  had  a  feast  with  his  family  on  the 
remainder.  For  them  it  was  a  joyous  event,  as  the  times 
were  hard  and  it  was  not  often  that  they  could  afford  to 
have  meat.  Salku,  the  original  owner  of  the  pig,  did  the 
same  with  his  share  but  unfortunately  his  residue  after 
having  sold  enough  to  pay  his  fine  was  a  very  small  one. 
However,  both  parties  were  perfectly  satisfied  with  the 
outcome  of  the  case.  They  went  home  as  good  friends  as 
ever.  Their  troubles  had  been  adjusted  by  the  village  coun- 
cil. 


THE  SACRED   BULL, 


Beldangal  is  a  large  Hindu  village.  There  are  ruins  in 
it  of  old  Hindu  temples  and  palaces,  but  the  glories  of  the 
place  all  lie  in  the  past,  the  hazy,  dreamy  past  of  Hindustan. 
The  present  picture  shows  a  couple  of  rows  of  low,  straw- 
thatched,  illkept  mud-houses,  a  crooked,  dirty  street  with 
a  few  goats,  calves  and  naked  children. 

Many  of  the  villagers  are  Brahmins.  They  are  holy 
men  and  priests  of  Siva,  Ram,  Krishna  and  the  millions  of 
other  gods  of  Hinduism.  In  fact,  the  Brahmin  himself  is 
a  god  and  is  worshipped  as  such.  All  Hindus  of  the  lower 
castes  must  bow  down  before  the  Brahmin  and  worship 
him.  If  a  Brahmin  comes  to  the  house  of  a  low-caste  man 
he  must  be  entertained  with  the  best  the  house  can  afford. 
But  first  of  all  his  feet  must  be  washed  in  a  bowl  and  the 
host  drink  a  a  mouthful  of  that  dirty  water.  By  drinking 
that  water  the  man  acquires  merit  and  believes  that  his  sins 
are  washed  away. 

Some  years  ago  there  lived  an  old  Brahmin  in  this 
village.  H£  was  quite  rich,  but  he  was  old  and  feeble  and 
felt  that  the  end  was  drawing  near.  Like  a  wise  man  he 

68 


THE  SACRED  BULL.  69 

began  to  prepare  himself  so  that  he  could  meet  death  in 
the  right  way. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  look  about  for  a  suitable 
bull  calf,  whose  tail  he  could  clasp  in  his  dying  hand  and 
into  which  his  soul  could  pass  when  it  should  have  to  leave 
the  body.  He  was  anxious  about  his  next  incarnation. 


HINDU  WORSHIPPER. 

AYhat  if  he  should  be  sent  to  earth  again  to  occupy  the 
body  of  a  snake,  a  dog  or  a  sow?  The  very  thought  filled 
him  with  horrors.  He  must  find  a  bull  calf. 

In  a  Santal  village  close  by,  a  suitable  calf  was  at  last 
found.  After  due  bickering  it  was  purchased  and  brought 
to  the  Brahmin's  house  and  tied  close  at  hand  should  it  be 
suddenly  needed. 


70         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAX. 

In  due  course  the  Brahmin  died  clasping  the  calf's  tail. 
As  soon  as  his  struggles  were  over,  the  preparations  for 
his  cremation  were  begun.  The  priests  gathered.  Holy 
water  from  the  Ganges  was  sprinkled  on  the  bull  calf  and 
he  was  consecrated  to  Siva.  Then  they  branded  it  on  both 
hindquarters,  on  one  side  with  the  image  of  the  lotus  flow- 
er and  on  the  other  with  the  trident,  or  the  three-tined  fork 
of  Siva. 

The  Brahmin's  body,  the  bull  calf  and  a  number  of 
things  necessary  to  the  various  ceremonies  were  then 
brought  out  to  a  large  pond  near  the  village  where  the 
funeral  pyre  had  already  been  built. 

With  due  ceremonies  the  body  was  put  on  the  pyre. 
The  eldest  son  applied  the  torch  to  the  wood  with  his  own 
hand,  and  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  old  Brahmin  was  re- 
duced to  ashes.  While  this  was  going  on,  the  calf  was 
brought  forward  and  the  eldest  son,  in  the  name  of  his 
departed  father,  grasped  it  by  the  tail,  drove  it  out  into  the 
pond  and  forced  it  to  swim  across.  When  the  other  bank 
was  reached  the  boy  let  go  of  the  tail  and  the  ceremony,  so 
far  as  the  calf  was  concerned,  was  over. 

The  calf  was  now  a  sacred  bull.  Xo  one  was  allowed 
to  tie  him  or  use  him  for  any  work,  and  he  was  free  to 
wander  about  wherever  he  pleased. 

Xo  sooner  had  the  calf  found  out  that  he  was  free  than 
it  started  for  its  native  village.  Xearly  all  the  people  there 
are  Santals  and  have  no  great  respect  for  sacred  bulls. 
From  door  to  door  it  was  beaten  and  abused,  and  for  a 
while  it  had  a  daily  struggle  to  obtain  food. 

But  as  the  days  passed  by  he  grew  to  be  a  large  and 
strong  bull  and  soon  found  that  he  no  longer  needed  to  run 
away  from  the  little  shepherd  boys,  but  rather  that  they 
would  flee  before  his  horns.  He  tried  larger  boys  and  the 


THE  SACRED  BULL.  71 

experiment  usually  came  out  the  same  way,  they  fled.  At 
last  he  tried  grown-up  men,  and  his  experience  was  that  in 
most  cases  his  warlike  appearence,  flourishing  horns,  paw- 
ing and  bellowing  would  put  even  them  to  rout.  The  San- 
tals  whispered  to  one  another  that  a  Hindu  "Bonga"  had 
taken  possession  of  the  bull,  and  they  gave  him  a  wide  berth. 

In  this  way  the  sacred  bull  became  a  first  class  nuisance 
in  the  village.  If  a  woman  spread  her  grain  on  the  ground 
to  dry,  the  bull  would  be  there  to  eat  it.  All  her  shouting 
and  flourishing  of  stick  availed  nothing. 

In  the  first  part  of  June  every  year  the  farmers  sow 
their  paddy,  or  rice,  in  hotbeds  so  as  to  get  the  plants  ready 
to  set  out  as  soon  as  the  rains  come.  At  this  time  of  the 
year  these  hotbeds  are  the  only  green  patches  on  the  land- 
scape. Xo  wonder  these  patches  were  a  source  of  tempta- 
tion to  the  sacred  bull ! 

Before  dawn  one  morning  an  old  Santal  found  the  bull 
in  the  middle  of  his  hotbed  munching  the  young,  green 
shoots.  This  was  going  a  little  too  far,  the  old  man  thought. 
His  temper  was  up.  Back  to  the  house  he  went  to  fetch 
an  ax  and  a  rope. 

In  a  short  time  the  spirit  of  the  Brahmin  was  again 
homeless,  and  all  the  Santals  in  the  village  knew  before 
sunrise  that  under  a  certain  matkom  tree  at  the  edge  of  the 
woods  there  was  fresh  beef  to  be  had. 

The  entire  Santal  population  of  the  village  feasted.  And 
it  was  the  understanding  that  no  tongue  should  wag  about 
that  matter,  but  that  everybody  should  go  home  and  forget 
where  the  beef  came  from.  And  had  the  old  man  not  been 
indiscreet,  the  story  would  perhaps  have  ended  here,  but 
his  avarice  led  him  into  trouble. 

He  cured  the  hide  of  the  sacred  bull  and  took  it  to  mar- 
ket. The  hide  merchant,  on  examining  it  noticed  the  brands. 


72 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


Crowds  of  Hindus  soon  gathered  around  and  some  one  re- 
cognized the  hide  as  the  one  which  once  covered  the  sacred 
bull  of  Beldangal. 

The  Hindus  were  in  a  rage  and  threatened  the  old  man 
with  violence.  "Think  of  it,"  they  said,  "the  Santals  have 
killed  a  sacred  bull  and  perhaps  even  eaten  it!" 


SIRDARS. 

The  old  man  was  then  taken  to  the  Sirdar,  who  is  a 
sort  of  head  of  the  village  watchmen  in  the  district.  The 
Sirdar  was  a  Santal  living  in  the  same  village  as  the  of- 
fender, and  had  likely  eaten  his  share  of  the  beef.  How- 
ever, in  his  official  capacity  he  called  the  villagers  together 
and  made  out  a  list  of  some  twenty  families  who  had  par- 


THE  SACRED  BULL.  73 

taken  of  the  feast.  The  people  were  thoroughly  frighten- 
ed and  wondered  what  punishment  would  be  meted  out  to 
them.  The  Sirdar  held  the  opinion  that  they  would  all 
have  to  go  to  jail ;  still  if  each  family  would  give  him  two 
rupees,  he  said,  he  \vould  square  matters  with  the  Hindus 
and  the  whole  thing  would  soon  blow  over. 

Some  days  passed  and  the  Brahmins  in  Beldangal  be- 
came impatient.  The  Santals  had  not  been  punished  as 
they  thought  they  ought  to  be,  so  the  Brahmins  went  and 
called  in  another  Sirdar,  a  Hindu.  This  new  referee  inves- 
tigated the  case,  first  in  the  village  of  the  Santals ;  then 
he  took  seven  or  eight  of  the  leaders  with  him  to  his  own 
village  six  miles  away,  where  he  kept  them  for  two  days 
and,  according  to  the  custom  of  his  ilk,  tried  to  squeeze 
heavy  bribes  from  them. 

But  the  Santals  finally  grew  tired  of  this  procedure  and 
agreed  among  themselves  that  it  was  best  for  them  to  go 
directly  to  the  magistrate,  confess  everything,  and  take 
their  punishment  at  his  hands  like  men. 

The  magistrate  called  in  the  two  Sirdars  and  the  San- 
tals and  held  a  searching  inquiry,  under  which  the  work 
of  those  two  men  came  out  in  a  rather  unfavorable  light. 
The  Santal  Sirdar  having  returned  the  rupees,  he  had  taken 
and  being  shielded  by  his  people  escaped  punishment,  but 
the  Hindu  Sirdar  was  fined  heavily,  and  barely  escaped 
losing  his  post  for  the  part  he  had  played. 

The  magistrate  then  asked  the  Santals  which  of  them 
had  killed  the  bull  ? 

An  old  wrinkled  Santal  came  forward,  bowed  low,  and 
said:  "Your  Honor,  I  killed  it." 

The  magistrate  laughed  and  saidr  "Is  is  possible  that  an 
old  man  like  you  singlehancled  could  kill  a  large  strong 
bull  ?"  But  all  the  villagers  declared  that  what  he  said  was 
true.  The  magistrate  then  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 


74         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

brought  out  two  rupees,  gave  them  to  the  old  man,  and 
told  him  to  go  home. 

Through  this  experience  both  Hindus  and  Santals  have 
found  out  that  before  the  law  there  is  no  difference  be- 
tween a  sacred  bull  and  a  common  plow  bullock,  and  that, 
as  the  sacred  bull  had  no  home  and  no  owner  responsible 
for  it,  in  the  event  it  becomes  a  public  nuisance,  it  as  a 
good  riddance  to  kill  it. 

The  Brahmins  complain  that  since  the  Englishmen  be- 
came the  rulers  of  this  country  justice  is  not  to  be  had.  The 
most  awful  crimes,  even  the  killing  of  sacred  bulls,  remain 
unpunished. 

On  the  other  hand  the  Santals  never  tire  of  singing  the 
praises  of  the  English  magistrate.  They  say :  "The  Saheb 
does  not  look  at  the  face  of  the  Brahmin,  neither  does  he 
look  at  the  face  of  the  Santal,  but  he  deals  out  justice 
equally  to  all." 


SANTAU  CHRISTIANS. 


In  many  of  the  villages  in  Santalistan  the  population  is 
a  very  mixed  one.  A  dozen  or  more  Hindu  castes  may  be 
represented,  each  with  its  own  gods,  worship  and  cere- 
monies. But  that  does  not  matter  so  long  as  the  people 
are  all  Hindus.  The  power  of  the  Brahmin  holds  them 
together. 

With  Mohammedans  it  is  different.  They  have  very 
little  in  common  with  the  Hindus,  and  it  is  not  infrequent 
that  Hindus  and  Moslems  step  on  each  others'  religious 
corns. 

A  short  way  from  the  Mission  station  there  is  a  large 
village.  The  most  of  its  inhabitants  are  Hindus  of  the 
various  castes  but  there  are  also  a  number  of  Mohamme- 
dan families. 

Some  time  ago  a  babajee,  or  religious  mendicant,  came 
to  the  village,  ostensibly  to  strengthen  the  faith  of  the 
Hindus.  He  was  quite  modern  in  his  methods.  Among 
other  things  he  carried  with  him  an  accordion,  a  patched 
and  scarred  veteran  of  many  a  compaign  yet  under  the 
babajees  trained  hand  an  instrument  capable  of  producing 

75 


76         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALTSTAN. 

a  series  of  the  most  wonderful  sounds  and  noices  ever  in- 
vented by  man. 

The  young  men  of  the  village  were  recruited  to  help. 
Some  were  put  to  beating  drums,  some  to  playing  various 
stringed  instruments,  and  some  to  dancing- — all  this  to 
please  and  honor  the  gods  and  to  procure  an  easy  living 
for  the  babajee. 

The  Hindu  villagers  were  highly  delighted  with  the 
music,  and  enthusiasm  grew  fast.  Every  night  the  crowds 
would  be  larger,  the  music  louder,  and  the  shouting  of  the 
dancers  more  rapturous.  All  night  long  pandemonium 
reigned  in  the  street. 

After  listening  to  this  racket  for  a  week  or  two  the 
Mohammedans,  of  course,  thought  it  was  getting  stale,  and 
they  began  to  protest  against  having  their  night's  rest  brok- 
en ;  but  no  one  heeded  them.  At  last  they  thought  they 
could  bear  it  no  longer,  therefore  they  raised  a  purse  and 
bought  an  old  cow.  They  bided  their  time  till  the  crowds 
had  gathered  in  the  evening  to  resume  their  noisy  dance. 
Then  they  butchered  the  cow  in  sight  of  the  dancing  Hin- 
dus just  to  see  what  would  happen. 

According  to  Hindu  ideas  to  kill  a  cow,  the  most  sacred 
animal,  is  considered  one  of  the  greatest  crimes  a  human 
being  can  commit. 

The  killing  of  the  cow  stopped  both  the  music  and  the 
dancing  and  so  far  proved  effective,  but  as  to  restoring 
peace  the  measure  was  a  total  failure.  It  was  rather  like 
the  upsetting  of  a  beehive.  The  babajee  preached  a  crusade 
against  the  Moslems  and  any  longbearded  follower  of  the 
illustrious  prophet  who  dared  show  his  head  outside  his 
door  would  at  once  be  made  a  target  for  all  sorts  of  missiles. 

Fortunately  most  of  the  fighting  in  this  country  is  done 
by  windpower.  It  is  a  question  of  good  strong  lungs. 


RELIGIOUS  QUARRELS.  77 

The  Hindus  would  tell  the  Mohammedans  what  they 
thought  of  them,  their  fathers  and  forefathers  for  twenty 
generations  back.  And  when  the  male  line  was  finished 
opinion  would  be  passed  on  their  female  line  of  forbears. 

But  the  Mohammedans  were  not  entirely  without  train- 
ing in  this  sort  of  warfare.  They  thought  of  several  spicy 
things  to  say  about  the  Hindus,  both  of  the  present  and  the 
past  generations,  so  the  scores  were  about  even. 

When  the  Hindus  saw  that  no  satisfactory  results  were 
to  be  gained  by  verbal  warfare  they  gathered  a  council  of 
war  to  discuss  the  situation.  In  this  they  decided  on  a 
more  modern  way  of  silencing  their  antagonists.  They  de- 
clared a  boycott.  No  Mussulman  was  to  be  allowed  to  draw 
water  from  the  village  ponds,  and  no  Hindu  was  to  buy 
from  or  sell  anything  to  a  Moslem,  or  to  have  any  dealings 
with  him  of  any  nature  whatever  under  penalty  of  being 
outcasted. 

As  to  water,  the  boycott  was  of  no  inconvenience.  It 
was  just  at  the  end  of  the  rainy  season  and  water  was 
plentyful  everywhere.  But  many  of  the  Mahammedans 
were  weavers  and  cloth  merchants ;  and,  when  they  found 
that  they  could  obtain  no  space  in  the  marketplace  to  ex- 
hibit their  wares,  they  found  the  boycott  not  only  an  incon- 
venience but  a  serious  loss  to  them,  as  it  cut  them  off  from 
their  means  of  livelihood. 

Several  of  the  Moslem  fathers  then  got  together  to 
consider  what  was  to  be  done.  After  due  smoking  of 
''huka"  and  much  stroking  of  beard  it  was  decided  that 
five  of  the  most  representative  members  of  their  clan 
should  go  to  the  magistrate  of  the  district  and  lodge  a 
complaint  of  unfair  treatment  against  the  owner  of  the 
marketplace. 

"But,"  said  one,  "would  it  not  be  a  good  thing  if  we 


78  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

could  get  the  Padre  to  give  us  a  letter  to  the  magistrate? 
He  knows  all  about  our  troubles  and  a  few  words  from 
him  would  surely  limber  up  the  arm  of  the  law  and  help 
us  to  secure  speedy  justice." 

In  consequence  of  his,  three  of  the  most  longbearded 
and  venerable  fathers  kissed  the  Moslem  blarneystone — 
if  such  a  thing  exists — and  came  to  the  Mission.  They 
found  the  Padre  on  the  veranda  and  after  deep  salaams 
addressed  him  as  follows :  "We  know  that  you  are  the 
father  and  mother  of  us  all.  Your  blessings  preserve  our 
poor  lives  and  there  is  no  one  like  you  in  the  land,  and 
above  you  there  is  only  one — Allah.  Your  Illustrious  Pre- 
sence knows  that  those  worshippers  of  idols,  our  neighbors, 
are  persecuting  us  and  have  forbidden  us  to  sit  in  the 
market-place  and  sell  our  wares.  Our  children  have  be- 
come like  shadows  from  hunger,  and  we  ourselves  are,  as 
Your  Higness  well  can  see,  bent  with  sorrow.  In  our 
trouble  we  have  come  to  Your  Highness  with  a  little  prayer. 
Would  Your  Highness  make  us  and  our  children  happy 
forever  by  giving  us  a  little  letter  to  the  magistrate  so  that 
we  might  get  speedy  justice  and  these  worshippers  of  idols 
be  put  to  shame?" 

"O  yes,  the  Padre  would  gladly  do  that  if  he  wanted 
your  suit  to  be  dismissed.  But  that  he  does  not  want.  Look 
here,  those  magistrates  are  very  suspicious  people,  that  you 
know.  Well,  if  you  come  to  the  magistrate  with  a  letter 
from  the  Padre  Saheb  he  will  think,  "Those  men  must  have 
very  little  ground  to  stand  on,  as  they  have  found  it  neces- 
sary to  get  support  from  a  Padre.'  And  he  will  dismiss  your 
case." 

With  more  blarney  about  the  wisdom  of  the  Saheb  they 
salaamed  and  went  their  way.  The  complaint  was  lodged 
with  the  magistrate  of  the  district.  He  sent  out  two  native 


RELIGIOUS  QUARRELS. 


79 


deputy  police  inspectors  to  investigate  the  case  on  the  spot. 
One  of  them  was  a  Hindu  and  the  other  a  Mohammedan. 

Each  inspector  went  to  his  own  people  and  raised  as 
much  money  among  them  as  he  could.  Then  the  inspectors 
called  both  parties  together  for  a  heart  to  heart  talk,  in 
which  they  admonished  them  to  make  friends  again  and 
forget  their  quarrels.  If  not,  they  would  have  to  take  the 
leaders  on  both  sides  with  them  to  jail,  for  they  had  both 
been  found  guilty  of  breach  of  the  peace. 

This  threat  was  effectual.  The  complaint  was  with- 
drawn and  peace  settled  again  in  the  market-place  under 
the  mango  trees. 


VILLAGE  CHARCOAL  PEDLER. 


MOSQUITOES   AND    OTHER    INSECTS. 


For  a  collector  of  bugs  and  insects  Santalistan  must  be 
a  veritable  Eldorado  with  an  inexhaustable  supply  of  mat- 
erial. During  the  rainy  season,  especially,  you  will  find 
insects  and  bugs  everywhere,  all  kinds  of  them,  describable 
ones  as  well  as  indescribable  ones.  If  you  light  your  lamp 
in  the  evening  and  forget  to  shut  the  doors  or  windows 
your  table  will  soon  be  covered  with  the  most  wonderful 
collection  of  creeping,  flying,  jumping  beings,  many  of  then? 
regular  stinkpots.  If  you  go  out  for  a  morning  walk  you 
will  se  big  beetles  rolling  balls  of  cowdung  along  the  road 
in  front  of  you.  Why  they  do  it  and  where  they  are  rolling 
them  to  only  a  bugologist  can  tell. 

Then  there  are  the  armies  of  ants,  always  busy.  Some 
dwell  in  trees,  some  in  the  ground.  In  well  ordered  regi- 
ments they  move  from  one  camp  to  another  and  you  never 
get  tired  of  watching  them.  If  you  turn  over  a  leaf  or  a 
twig  there  are  the  white  ants,  a  brotherhood, the  members 
of  which  are  past  masters  in  the  art  of  destruction.  The 
white  ant,  they  say,  can  eat  and  digest  everything  except, 
perhaps,  tempered  steel. 

80 


MOSQUITOES  AND  OTHER  INSECTS. 


81 


Someone  has  claimed  that  the  Himalaya  mountains  once 
extended  over  half  of  India,  but  through  the  ages  the  white 
ants  have  eaten  and  digested  the  greater  part  of  them,  and 
they  are  still  at  the  work.  However  we  need  have  no  fear 
that  the  great  peaks  will  be  destroyed  during  our  lifetime 
as  it  is  too  cold  for  them  up  there  to  make  fast  progress. 


THE  WATERPOT  SELLER. 

White  ants  cannot  endure  the  cold.  So  far  they  have 
limited  their  operations  to  the  warm  countries.  Hot  and 
sultry  weather  seems  to  stimulate  them  to  extra  activity. 
Their  disposition  is  decidedly  pessimistic.  They  always 
approach  a  thing  from  the  dark  side.  They  cannot  stand 
the  light. 

In  the  morning  you  may  discover  a  pile  of  wet  dirt  in 


82  SKETCHES  FROM  S ANT ALI STAN. 

the  corner  of  your  room.  Poke  a  stick  into  it  and  you  will 
find  it  swarming  with  white  ants.  Unless  your  floor  is 
made  from  good  cement  you  had  better  not  put  your  shoes 
there  over  night.  If  you  do,  you  may  find  only  the  iron 
heel  pegs  left  to  wear  the  next  morning. 

One  of  our  missionaries,  while  out  on  a  preaching  tour, 
once  spent  a  night  in  a  village  temple.  Thoughtlessly  he  put 
a  certain  garment  of  his  on  the  floor  beside  his  bed,  and  the 
result  was  that  he  had  to  wear  his  pajamas  the  next  day. 

On  a  hot  sultry  night  a  lady  missionary  took  a  mat  and 
placed  it  on  the  ground  in  front  of  her  bungalow,  where 
she  could  get  a  little  breeze.  She  fell  soundly  asleep.  To- 
ward morning  she  awoke  with  a  cold  creepy  sensation  about 
head.  It  did  not  take  her  long  to  find  out  that  her  hair 
was  literally  full  of  white  ants,  and  she  had  to  get  busy  to 
save  herself  from  being  scalped  or  at  least  made  bald- 
headed. 

The  evil  fame  of  the  Indian  mosquito  has  reached  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  Compared  to  him  his  American  cousin 
is  an  aristocrat  and  a  gentleman.  He  is  a  man  of  principle 
and  full  of  business.  He  will  come  prospecting  around 
your  face,  neck  or  hands,  and  when  he  finds  a  hopeful  look- 
ing locality  he  at  once  gets  out  his  drill  and  starts  business. 
And  if  he  has  "struck  oil"  he  will  let  himself  be  distracted 
by  nothing,  he  will  chose  death  rather  than  to  be  deprived 
of  his  business. 

Not  so  the  Indian  mosquito.  He  will  come  to  you  under 
the  guise  of  a  philanthropist.  He  knows  that  your  soul 
is  starving  for  want  of  music,  so  he  comes  to  sing  to  you. 
And  he  has  a  voice  like  a  Scotch  bagpipe.  While  he  sings 
he  will  scout  around  for  a  favorable  place  to  attack  you. 
When  his  plans  of  attack  are  matured,  he  will  call  his 
caste-fellows  and  put  some  of  them  at  diverting  your  at- 


84         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

tention,  while  he  relieves  you  of  some  of  your  superfluous 
blood. 

Now,  if  it  were  only  the  loss  of  a  few  gallons  of  blood, 
you  might,  perhaps,  in  time  be  able  to  forgive  him  his 
thieving  propensities ;  but  there  are  worse  things  to  be  said 
against  him.  He  is  a  murderer.  He  will  not  kill  you  him- 
self, oh  no,  he  must  not  spoil  his  reputation  as  a  philan- 
thropist. His  wife  has  to  do  that. 

The  females  in  one  branch  of  the  mosquito  family, 
called  the  Anopheles,  have  been  delegated  to  poison  you. 
This  they  do  by  pumping  into  your  blood  the  germs  of 
Malaria.  If  enough  of  the  germs  have  been  injected  into 
your  veins,  you  get  the  dreadful  fever. 

You  soon  understand  that  the  mosquito  is  your  enemy, 
and  you  must  get  him,  or  he  will  ultimately  get  you.  There 
can  be  no  peace  between  you  and  him.  You  wage  war 
against  him  in  various  ways.  First  by  draining  off  all 
pools  of  stagnant  water,  or,  if  that  is  not  possible,  by  pour- 
ing kerosene  on  them,  for  in  such  places  the  mosquitoes 
breed  and  multiply. 

It  is  no  easy  matter  to  get  the  Santals  to  understand, 
that  there  is  a  connection  between  the  pool  of  stagnant  water 
and  the  man  dying  from  malaria.  You  must  demonstrate 
it  to  them.  You  take  some  stagnant  water,  in  which  there 
are  a  great  number  of  those  little  wrigglers,  or  mosquito 
spawn,  and  put  it  in  a  bottle.  Then  you  tie  paper  securely 
over  the  mouth  of  it,  only  perforating  the  paper  with  a  pin 
to  give  the  wrigglers  air.  In  a  day  or  two  they  will  be 
surprised  to  see  how  many  full  fledged  mosquitoes  there 
are  on  top  of  the  water.  In  this  way,  little  by  little,  it  will 
dawn  on  them,  that  you  are  right  after  all,  when  you  say 
that  the  little  wrigglers  turn  into  mosquitoes. 

Next,  you  protect  yourself  against  the  onslaught  of  this 


MOSQUITOES  AND  OTHER  INSECTS.  85 

little  foe,  by  sleeping-  under  a  curtain.  To  each  bed  there 
is  a  framework  about  three  feet  high,  on  which  you  stretch 
your  mosquito  net.  With  the  net  well  tucked  in  about  you, 
there  is  very  little  chance  for  him  to  get  at  you.  He  will 
sing  and  drone  and  buzz  around  and  blunder  against  the 
curtain  until  he  gets  tired,  then  he  will  sit  down  on  the 
curtain-poles  and  sulk. 

Someone  has  said,  that  if  the  Hindu  doctrine  about  the 
transmigration  of  the  soul  is  correct,  the  Indian  mosquito 
must  originally  have  been  a  Scotchman.  The  droning  is 
unmistakably  a  survival  of  the  bagpipe.  And  besides  that 
you  can  trace  the  national  shrewdness  in  his  business 
methods,  for  having  treated  you  to  his  music,  he  will  next 
claim  a  "wee  bit  of  a  drappie." 

If  the  mosquitoes  have  succeeded  in  filling  your  blood 
with  the  germs  of  malaria,  there  is  yet  one  weapon  left 
you — quinine.  You  eat  it  in  powders,  drink  it  in  solutions, 
and  swallow  it  made  up  into  pills,  and  if  that  does  not  help, 
you  are  invalided  home. 

The  flea  is  another  enemy  you  have  to  deal  with.  In 
one  way  he  is  more  to  be  feared  than  the  mosquito,  for  he 
spreads  the  plague.  In  the  crowded  bazars  and  native 
houses,  there  are  always  a  lot  of  rats.  On  these  rats  the 
flea  lives  and  thrives.  Now,  rats  are  subject  to  the  plague. 
When  a  rat  gets  the  plague  and  dies,  the  fleas  will  leave 
the  dead  body,  and  likely  as  not  go  and  bite  a  human  being 
next  and  in  that  way  transfer  the  plague. 

War  is  therefore  waged  against  the  rats,  but  it  is  no  easy 
matter  to  exterminate  them,  where  one  has  to  deal  with 
narrowminded,  fanatical  Hindus,  who  shield  the  rat  under 
the  plea  that  all  life  is  sacred.  And  when  they  believe  that 
the  spirit  of  some  of  their  ancestors  have  come  back  to 
live  with  them  in  the  body  of  a  rat,  you  cannot  reasonably 


86  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

expect  much  assistance  from  them  in  their  extermination. 

Among  the  Santals  rats  are  not  very  safe.  Roasted  rat 
is  a  delicacy  much  coveted,  especially  by  Santal  boys. 

There  is  yet  another  dangerous  member  of  the  bug 
family  which  ought  to  come  in  for  some  consideration.  To 
mention  his  name  would  perhaps  not  be  polite,  so  we  shall 
speak  of  him  as  the  B-flat  bug.  His  home  is  preferably  the 
cracks  and  joints  of  the  native's  bedstead,  or  in  the  floor 
mats,  where  people  sleep,  and  his  food  is  human  blood. 

For  some  time  scientists  have  suspected  Mr.  B-flat,  and 
now  they  have  proved  their  case.  They  have  found  him 
guilty  of  transferring  the  germs  of  leprosy  from  one  per- 
son to  another.  Everywhere  in  this  land  there  are  lepers. 
They  often  travel  about  from  place  to  place  exhibiting  their 
horrid  sores  and  stumpy  hands  and  feet,  while  begging  for 
alms.  People  pity  them,  give  them  food  and  shelter,  often 
giving  them  one  of  their  beds  or  mats  to  sleep  on.  Perhaps 
after  the  lapse  of  several  years  it  becomes  known,  that 
some  member  of  the  charitable  family  has  contracted  the 
dreaded  disease.  The  bug,  having  fed  on  the  body  of  the 
leper,  next  bites  someone,  who  has  not  got  the  disease, 
transferring  the  germs  to  him. 


LEOPARDS. 


Old  Santals  can  tell  us  about  the  time,  when  the  great- 
est part  of  Santalistan  was  covered  with  dense  jungle, 
which  was  the  home  of  tigers,  leopards,  bears,  wild  boar, 
buffaloes,  elephants,  deer  and  other  animals.  The  Santals 
are  both  by  profession  and  inclination  clearers  of  jungle, 
grubbers  and  diggers.  They  started  to  clear  the  forest,  and 
the  fight  began.  The  royal  keeper  of  the  jungle,  the  Ben- 
gal tiger,  would  not  surrender  his  home  and  haunts  without 
a  fight.  Many  and  weird  are  the  stories  told  in  the'  thresh- 
ing-places of  an  evening  about  this  fight.  His  royal  high- 
ness was  beaten.  The  long  ironheadecl  arrows  and  spears 
as  well  as  the  traps  of  the  alert  conquerer  of  the  jungle 
proved  too  much  for  him,  he  had  to  retreat. 

Once  in  a  while  even  now-a-days  a  tiger  may  stray  into 
the  district,  but  they  are  not  at  all  common.  However,  the 
caves,  where  the  oldtime  man-eaters  used  to  reside,  are  to 
be  seen  until  this  day.  At  the  mouth  of  one  cave  I  turned 
over  the  remains  of  two  human  skulls,  ghastly  souvenirs, 
which  went  to  prove  that  the  famous  man-eating  monsters, 
of  whom  the  Santals  tell  such  legendary  tales,  were  not 
entirely  mythical. 


88         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

But  I  was  going  to  tell  about  the  leopards.  They  are 
relatives  of  the  tiger,  but  there  is  no  royal  blood  in  their 
veins,  that  is  certain.  Compared  with  the  tiger,  they  are 
lowbred,  narrowminded  and  sneaky  animals.  They  have 
made  their  home  in  the  rocky  hills  and  patches  of  jungle 
about  us.  At  night  they  prowl  about  the  villages  and  carry 


SANTAL  ARCHER. 

away  dogs,  goats  and  even  purs.  Y^-s,  they  do  not  even 
draw  the  line  at  a  longlegged,  razorback,  brushbristle  fac- 
tory of  a  Santal  pig.  But  their  favorite  dish  seems  to  be 
the  ordinary  pariah  dog.  In  the  villages  about  Gombro 
hill  there  is  hardly  a  yellow  dog  left  to  yelp  at  the  moon. 
The  leopards  have  eaten  them  all.  And  if  you  judge  them 


LEOPARDS.  89 

according  to  the  rule:  "Tell  me  what  you  eat  and  I  will 
tell  you  who  you  are,"  the  leopards  would  not  get  very  high 
marks  on  the  character  rolls. 

In  a  year's  time  no  less  than  four  leopards  were  killed 
near  our  Kaerabani  station.  Two  of  our  Christian  workers 
are  responsible  for  the  death  of  one. 

Early  one  morning  I  heard  a  man's  voice  at  my  door 
calling  excitedly:  "Saheb,  lend  us  your  rifle!" 

The  man  was  so  excited  and  out  of  breath  from  run- 
ning that  he  could  hardly  answer  my  question  as  to  why 
he  wanted  the  rifle.  But  at  last  I  found  out  that  a  leopard 
had  been  located  in  a  little  patch  of  jungle  near  his  village. 
I  gave  the  mari  an  old  army  rifle  we  had  at  the  station,  a 
few  cartridges,  and  some  good  advice,  and  off  he  went  at 
a  gallop.  I  also  sent  off  another  hunter  with  a  shotgun  and 
bullets. 

About  noon  I  saw  a  long  procession  of  people  coming 
up  the  road  towards  the  Mission.  In  the  van  was  the  dead 
leopard  suspended  from  a  bamboo  pole  carried  by  two 
sturdy  Santals.  Then  came  the  two  hunters  with  their 
guns.  Following  them  were  all  the  small  boys  within  the 
radius  of  several  miles,  all  talking  and  gesticulating,  and 
evidently,  discussing  the  events  of  the  hunt. 

There  was  the  "big  pussy,"  as  the  Santals  called  it,  with 
a  large  bullet  hole  in  it's  forehead  and  another  in  it's 
shoulder.  It  was  a  young  male  leopard,  measuring  a  little 
more  than  six  feet  from  tip  of  nose  to  tip  of  tail.  The  old 
Snyder  rifle  in  the  hands  of  Boroda  had  done  the  job  well. 
The  leopard  had  taken  refuge  in  a  cleft  between  two  rocks. 
The  first  shot  broke  it's  shoulder  and  as  it  was  about  to 
drag  itself  out  another  bullet  in  the  forehead  ended  its 
earthly  career. 

The  people  from  the  nearest  villages  soon  gathered  to 


LEOPAUDS.  91 

get  a  look  at  the  dead  ''pussy."  Some  of  them  brought 
their  small  children,  and  though  they  screamed  from  fright, 
yet  they  were  made  to  touch  the  dead  animal.  The  Santals 
have  a  superstition  that  if  a  child  is  fussy  and  cries  at  night 
the  best  cure  for  it  is  to  make  it  touch  a  leopard  or  any 
other  ferocious  animal.  The  leopard  skin  was  given  to  me, 
and  the  Santals  had  a  feast  on  the  flesh. 

Another  time  the  same  men  got  the  rifle  and  went  out 
and  shot  a  striped  hyena  near  the  Mission  station.  A  family 
of  those  so  called  scavengers  of  the  desert  had  taken  up 
their  abode  in  a  cave  near  by.  When  the  head  of  the  family 
was  killed  the  others  soon  disappeared.  The  Santals  ate 
the  flesh  of  the  hyena,  also.  And  when  I  chaffed  them 
about  their  appetites  they  told  me  that  the  flesh  was  fat 
and  nice  and  made  an  excellent  curry. 

The  Santals  love  to  hunt.  Very  few  of  them,  however, 
have  guns.  A  native  cannot  keep  a  gun  without  first  get- 
ting a  license  from  the  government.  If  a  gun  is  found  in 
the  possession  of  a  native,  who  has  no  license,  he  is  prompt- 
ly arrested,  fined  or  imprisoned,  and  his  gun  is  taken  away 
from  him.  But  if  they  have  no  guns  they  have  bows  and 
arrows  and  ironheaded  spears,  and  many  a  wild  beast  of 
the  jungle  has  fallen  before  these  weapons.  From  child- 
hood the  Santal  boys  are  taught  the  use  of  bows  and  ar- 
rows. They  are  among  the  few  playthings  a  Santal  boy 
possesses,  and  he  uses  them  diligently.  As  soon  as  he  is 
big  enough  to  run  about  he  shoots  lizards  and  small  birds 
and  soon  becomes  a  skilled  marksman. 

People  often  complain  that  there  are  but  few  song-birds 
in  the  Santal  country,  which  is  quite  true.  Birds  of  all  kinds 
are  very  scarce,  especially  in  the  Santai  villages.  If  one 
goes  to  a  Hindu  village  one  will  at  once  notice  the  differ- 
ence; there  the  trees  are  full  of  songsters,  while  in  a  Santal 


92 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


village  even  the  chirp  of  a  sparrow  is  rare.  For  this  state 
of  affairs  the  young  Santal  hunter,  I  am  afraid,  must  bear 
the  blame. 

The  Santals  can  tell  many  a  "tall  story"  of  leopard 
hunts,  every  one  of  them,  they  assure  us,  being  as  true  as 
true  can  be.  Here  is  a  fair  sample. 


A  LUCKY  SHOT. 

Near  some  villages  about  a  days  march  from  here,  there 
lived  some  time  ago  a  man-eating  leopard.  When  a 
leopard  once  tastes  human  flesh  and  blood,  he  will  eat  no- 
thing else.  Among  the  victims  of  this  leopard  was  the 
daughter  of  a  village  chief.  On  hearing  this  the  people  of 
the  neighborhood  were  deeply  stirred,  and  when  the  chief 
called  for  volunteers  to  help  him  hunt  the  leopard,  a  large 


LEOPARDS.  93 

number  of  young  men  came  forward.  Together  with  the 
chief  they  went  out  determined  to  kill  the  monster. 

From  early  morning  they  beat  the  jungle,  but  they  saw 
no  sign  of  the  animal.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  village 
chief  in  some  way  became  separated  from  his  followers  and 
wandered  about  alone.  Suddenly  he  stood  almost  face  to 
face  with  his  enemy.  Quick  as  thought  an  iron-pointed, 
reed  arrow  was  fitted  to  the  bowstring,  a  twang  was  heard 
and  the  arrow7  went  into  the  shoulder  of  the  animal.  The 
wounded  brute,  now  furious  from  pain,  at  once  sprang  at 
the  chief.  The  latter  dropped  his  bow  and  shinned  up  the 
nearest  sal  tree.  But  the  tree  happened  to  be  a  small  one 
and  being  young  and  supple  it  began  to  bend  over  as  he 
neared  the  top. 

\Yhen  the  chief  realized  the  situation  he  said  to  the  leo- 
pard: "A  few  days  ago  you  ate  my  daughter,  and  today  it 
looks  as  if  you  will  eat  me." 

He  then  jumped  to  the  ground  and  the  leopard  began 
to  chase  him  around  the  tree.  Fortunately  the  chief  got 
hold  of  the  leopard's  tail  and  saved  himself  by  always  keep- 
ing the  tree  between  himself  and  the  furious  animal,  all 
the  time  shouting  for  help. 

^"hen  his  hunting  comrades  at  last  arrived  both  the 
leopard  and  the  chief  were  thoroughly  exhausted.  The 
animal  was  killed,  but  the  skin  was  spoiled  because  most 
of  the  hair  was  worn  off  from  the  tail  by  the  rubbing  it 
had  received  against  the  rough  bark  of  the  tree. 

Once  we  had  a  magistrate  in  the  district,  who  was  a 
keen  hunter.  He  asked  that  word  might  be  sent  him  if 
leopards  were  heard  of  in  the  neighborhood.  A  few  days 
afterwards  I  had  occasion  to  do  so.  The  next  morning  out 
he  came  bringing  writh  him  two  more  Europeans  and  a  few 
extra  rifles.  From  the  nearest  villages  I  had  secured  some 


94         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

beaters,  who  brought  with  them  several  big  drums  and  a 
number  of  dogs. 

The  magistrate  arranged  the  hunt.  The  beaters  were 
to  start  their  beating  in  one  end  of  the  jungle  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  leopard  when  running  away  from  them 
would  not  have  to  go  against  the  sun.  Being  of  the  cat 
family  the  leopard  prefers  to  go  away  from  the  sun  rather 
than  against  it. 

Rifles  and  munition  were  then  distributed  and  each  of 
us  Europeans  were  assigned  places  along  the  brow  of  the 
hill  on  the  course  which  the  leopard  was  expected  to  take, 
when  the  hunt  began.  Each  one  of  us  had  a  few  Santals 
with  him. 

At  a  given  signal  the  hunt  began.  Drums  were  beating, 
the  Santals  were  shouting,  their  dogs  were  barking, — in 
short  pandemonium  broke  loose.  There  was  noise  enough 
to  frighten  even  the  proverbial  dead  donkey.  The  narrow 
belt  of  jungle  in  which  we  were  stationed  was  so  dense  that 
any  animal  smaller  than  an  elephant  could  easily  have  pas- 
sed within  a  hundred  feet  of  us  without  being  noticed. 

The  beaters  were  slowly  coming  down  our  way.  "\Ye 
were  all  alert,  gun,  spear,  arrow  or  stick  in  hand  ready  to 
give  an  account  of  ourselves  should  the  leopard  come  our 
way.  Ten  minutes  passed,  fifteen  minutes  passed.  The 
thing  was  beginning  to  get  tedious,  I  thought.  Then  all  of 
a  sudden  a  Santal  in  front  of  me  grew  rigid.  He  turned  an 
intensely  drawn  and  fierce  face  toward  me  and  \vhispered : 
"He  is  near  us."  We  renewed  our  vigils  and  strained  both 
eye  and  ear,  but  a  regiment  of  leopards  might  well  have 
passed  us  unobserved  in  that  dense  jungle. 

After  a  reasonable  pause  I  asked  the  man,  how  he  could 
tell  that  the  leopard  was  near.  He  replied :  "I  felt  it  in 
my  body,  every  hair  on  my  body  rose  and  I  felt  that  the 


LEOPARDS.  95 

animal  was  near  us.  It  must  have  passed  down  this  way." 
Then  he  led  us  into  the  jungle  and  showed  us  a  few  claw- 
marks,  a  broken  twig,  and  a  crushed  leaf,  as  proof,  posi- 
tive that  the  leopard  had  passed  unchallenged  within  thirty 
yards  of  us. 

The  Santals  are  sons  of  the  jungle  and  live  nearer  na- 


THE  CHURCH  LEOPARD. 

ture  than  we  do,  hence  this  strange  sixth  sence  of  feeling 
the  nearness  of  an  enemy  befor  seeing  or  hearing  it. 

But  the  most  exciting  leopard  hunt  we  have  had  hap- 
pened at  Benagaria,  the  old  head  station  of  our  mission. 
One  morning  a  young  man  came  and  told  us  that  he  had 
seen  a  suspicious  looking  animal  in  a  culvert  by  the  big  water 
reservoir,  or  tank,  as  it  is  commonly  called.  He  thought  it 


96         SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAX. 

was  a  leopard.  This  we  could  not  believe  as  those  animals 
very  seldom  come  into  this  neighborhood,  but  thought  it 
must  be  a  hyena,  or  perhaps  a  jackel,  the  man  had  seen. 
But  to  make  sure  we  went  over  and  had  a  peek  into  the 
hole.  And  true  enough,  there  lay  a  leopard  glaring  at  us 
from  out  of  the  semi-darkness  of  the  culvert.  Its  eyes 
looked  like  two  burning  coals,  and  as  we  were  unarmed 
we  thought  it  best  to  keep  at  a  safe  distance. 

All  the  available  weapons  at  the  mission  consisted  of 
an  old  pistol  and  a  double  barrel  shot  gun  of  which  one  of 
the  barrels  was  cracked  and  useless.  It  was  clear  that  if 
the  leopard  was  to  be  killed  it  would  have  to  be  done  by 
strategy.  If  we  shot  at  it  and  wounded  it  someone  would 
be  sure  to  be  either  mauled  or  killed  by  it,  as  a  wounded 
leopard  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  animals  to  have  to 
deal  with. 

Quite  a  number  of  men  gathered  and  we  held  a  council 
of  war.  After  discussing  the  pros  and  cons,  public  opin- 
ion seemed  to  concur  in  that  drowning  would  be  both  as 
safe  and  painless  a  death  as  we  could  think  of  for  the  leo- 
pard. 

The  hole  or  culvert  in  which  the  animal  had  taken  re- 
fuge is  an  opening  about  three  feet  high  and  the  same 
width,  running  through  an  earth  embankment,  which  is 
over  fifty  feet  wide.  The  outer  end  of  the  culvert  we  de- 
cided to  block  up  with  an  old  door,  and  at  the  other  end 
which  comes  out  a  couple  of  feet  above  the  water  of  the 
reservoir  we  would  place  a  large,  strong  fish-net.  The  plan 
was  to  get  Mr.  Spots  to  leave  his  refuge  by  the  back  door, 
get  tangled  up  in  the  net  and  dragged  into  the  water,  where 
we  thought  we  could  dispatch  him  in  ease  and  comfort. 

People  were  gathering  fast.  Plow  they  found  out  that 
a  hunt  was  on,  I  do  not  know.  But  within  an  hour  there 


LEOPARDS.  97 

must  have  been  about  a  hundred  men  present,  all  of  them 
more  or  less  excited  over  the  prospect  of  a  real  hunt.  Some 
of  them  had  spears,  some  had  stout  sticks,  but  many  had  no 
weapons  of  any  kind.  The  old  pistol  and  gun  were  then 
loaded  and  given  to  the  sharpshooters,  the  net  brought 
forth  and  everything  got  into  shape.  First  the  outer  en- 
trance was  blocked,  then  the  net  was  spread  before  the 
inner  opening  and  the  signal  given  for  a  vigorous  drum- 
ming at  the  old  door  to  frighten  the  animal  out  the  way 
we  wanted  it  to  come. 

Everybody  was  now  trembling  with  excitement,  the 
nervous  strain  was  awful.  Suddenly  a  low  growl  was  heard 
and  a  large  head  protruded  from  the  culvert  exhibiting  a 
splendid  set  of  teeth.  The  half  a  dozen  or  more  who  were 
holding  the  net  dropped  it  and  ran  up  the  bank  as  fast  as 
their  legs  could  carry  them.  One  look  at  that  white  dinner- 
set  in  the  head  of  the  leopard  was  enough  for  them.  The 
way  being  clear  the  leopard  walked  leisurely  over  the  net 
and  up  the  bank  to  look  for  another  hiding  place.  Fortu- 
nately the  man  with  the  gun  did  not  fire  and  the  animal 
trotted  leisurely  along  towards  an  old  limekiln.  On  closer 
inspection  it  was  evidently  not  satisfied  with  the  place  as 
a  refuge  for  one  whose  life  was  in  danger,  so  it  made  for 
the  church. 

Whether  it  was  instinct  or  some  other  and  deeper  rea- 
son which  prompted  the  hunted  leapord  to  look  upon  the 
mission  church  as  a  safe  refuge  is  a  question  which  could 
be  discussed  in  another  chapter.  The  fact  is  that  it  went 
straight  to  the  church  and  jumped  on  to  the  veranda  on 
the  north  side  and  began  to  look  for  an  open  door.  But 
all  the  doors  were  closed.  We  saw  what  it  wanted  and 
sent  a  man  around  to  the  other  side  to  open  a  door  for  it. 
This  being  done,  we  slowly  persuaded  it  to  proceed  around 


98 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAX. 


to  the  south  side,  where  it  spied  the  open  door,  and  the 
darkness  inside  was  an  invitation  to  it  to  enter.  The  door 
was  at  once  closed  and  bolted  and  we  started  to  take  pot 
shots  at  it  through  the  "jihnils"'  of  the  doors.  On  being 
wounded  it  roared  furiously.  Never  has  such  a  powerful 
voice  been  heard  in  the  Benagaria  church. 


A  HUNT. 

The  church  proved  to  be  a  very  poor  refuge  for  the 
leopard,  but  an  ideal  place  for  the  hunters.  Someone  was 
pumping  buckshot  into  it  all  the  time.  Finally  it  went  be- 
hind the  organ  and  lay  down  and  one  of  our  carpenters,  a 
Santal,  Makai  by  name,  got  a  chance  to  send  a  bullet  through 
its  neck  which  finished  it.  But  in  its  death  agony  it  bit 
large  pieces  out  of  the  woodwork  of  the  organ. 


LEOPARDS. 


99 


It  was  an  old  male  leopard  which  measured  seven  feet 
from  tip  to  tip.  All  day  it  lay  on  exhibition,  and  the  whole 
neighborhood  turned  out  to  have  a  look  at  it.  Old  medi- 
cinemen begged  with  moist  eyes  that  they  might  get  leave 
to  take  away  a  few  hairs  from  the  leopards  whiskers,  from 
which  to  make  a  charm  for  some  of  their  sick  friends. 


THE  VILLAGE  WHEELWRIGHT. 


SNAKES. 


India  is  a  great  country  for  snakes.  It  is  said  that  the 
snake  family  is  represented  here  by  more  than  two  hun- 
dred distinct  species.  Fortunately  they  are  not  all  poison- 
ous. Only  thirty  three  kinds  are  dangerous  to  life,  the 
chief  among  which  is  the  cobra. 

The  cobra  is  not  a  very  large  snake.  It  is  seldom  in 
this  district  more  than  three  and  a  half  feet  long,  but  it  is 
a  vicious  brute.  It  does  not  flee  from  its  natural  enemy, 
man,  but  is  ever  willing  and  ready  to  fight.  It  is  a  horrid 
sight  to  see  an  angry  cobra  curled  up,  its  raised  head  sway- 
ing from  side  to  side,  hissing,  ready  to  strike  a  death  blow 
at  its  enemy.  One  remembers  that  this  little  reptile  yearly 
murders  thousands  and  thousands  of  people. 

When  angry,  the  cobra  expands  the  skin  of  its  neck  un- 
til it  appears  like  a  hood.  On  this  hood  are  to  be  traced 
two  round  or  oblong  rings  that  look  like  a  pair  of  spectac- 
les. The  hiss  of  the  cobra  is  not  unlike  that  of  a  goose. 
In  the  upper  jaw,  well  forward,  it  has  two  sharp  poisonous 
fangs.  They  are  constructed  so  that  they  fold  back  when 
not  in  use;  they  are  hollow  and  a  small  duct  leads  up  from 

100 


SNAKES. 


101 


them  to  the  poison  glands  in  the  cheeks.  When  the  crea- 
ture is  angry,  the  fangs  are  erected  and  it  strikes  forward, 
puncturing  the  skin  of  its  victim  and  injecting  the  poison. 
\Yhen  hitten  by  a  cobra  a  strong  man  will  only  live  for  an 
hour  or  two,  so  powerful  is  the  poison. 


SNAKE  CHARMER. 


The  first  cobra  victim  I  saw  was  a  young  Mohammedan 
woman.  She  was  standing  beside  the  wall  of  her  house 
when  a  cobra  darted  out  of  a  hole  and  bit  her.  At  once 
she  called  her  people  and  told  them  what  had  happened, 
and  with  as  little  delay  as  possible  they  brought  her  to  the 


102  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

native  doctor  at  the  mission  only  half  a  mile  away.  Within 
a  few  minutes  after  she  was  bitten  she  was  so  weak  that 
she  had  to  be  carried.  The  doctor  gave  her  a  snakebite  re- 
medy and  ordered  her  to  be  walked  about  and  excercised 
so  as  to  keep  up  her  circulation.  The  poison  attacks  the 
involuntary  muscles. 

Some  men  dug  the  cobra  out  and  brought  it  also  to  the 
mission.  It  was  nearly  four  feet  long  and  everyone  who 
saw  it  declared  it  to  be  the  largest  cobra  they  had  ever 
seen. 

In  spite  of  all  the  remedies  the  woman  gradually  grew 
weaker.  Her  legs  became  quite  paralyzed  and  she  was  un- 
able to  move.  The  doctor  said  there  was  no  hope  for  her, 
yet  he  did  not  give  up,  but  had  people  help  him  to  rub  her 
arms  and  legs,  nevertheless  she  sank  gradually  and  within 
an  hour  she  was  dead. 

When  she  was  lying  on  the  ground  unconscious  and  the 
doctor  had  given  her  up,  some  Mohammedan  women,  her 
friends  and  relatives,  broke  small  branches  from  a  tree 
near  by,  squatted  about  the  dying  woman,  and  began  to 
draw  these  branches  down  her  body  all  the  time  repeating 
incantations.  I  asked  the  doctor  what  they  were  doing. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulder  and  said : 

They  are  saying  "mantras." 

Why  do  they  say  ''mantras?" 

With  another  shrug  of  shoulder  he  answered :  "These 
people  are  very  superstitious  and  think  that  "mantras"  or 
incantations  can  save  her  life." 

How  sad  to  see  their  helplessness !  Nothing  but  empty 
incantations  to  put  against  the  potent  poison  of  the  cobra. 

All  cases  of  snakebite  do  not,  however,  terminate  fatal- 
ly. While  at  Kaerabani  we  had  revcral  which  were  all 
saved.  I  must  tell  you  about  one  of  \v;o  of  them. 


SNAKES.  103 

The  Jarta  family  in  the  nearest  village  had  decided  to 
leave  their  "Bongas"  and  become  Christians.  They  had 
received  instruction  and  the  day  of  their  baptism  had  been 
fixed.  We  were  all  looking  forward  to  the  day  when  we 
could  welcome  them  as  members  of  the  church. 

On  Saturday  afternoon,  the  day  before  the  baptism  was 
to  take  place,  while  I  was  having  a  language  lesson  in  the 
veranda,  a  young  lad  came  up  and  told  us  that  Jarta's  wife 
had  been  bitten  by  a  snake,  that  she  was  unconscious  and 
had  been  carried  to  the  house  of  the  village  headman,  who 
was  a  heathen. 

We  started  at  once  for  the  headman's  house  about  half 
a  mile  away.  WThen  we  reached  it  we  found  the  poor  wo- 
man unconscious,  her  feet  and  hands  were  cold,  her  pulse 
very  faint  and  her  breathing  was  very  slow.  Three  or  four 
wromen  were  sitting  about  her  with  twigs  in  their  hands 
saying  ''mantras"  and  weeping.  They  were  all  heathen.  I 
had  brought  a  lancet  and  some  permanganate  of  potash  to 
rub  into  the  place  where  the  snake  had  bitten  her,  but  we 
could  not  find  the  wound,  and  the  woman  in  her  uncons- 
cious state  was,  of  course,  unable  to  tell  us.  So  we  decided 
to  take  her  to  the  mission  house  and  try  some  other  reme- 
dies which  we  had.  We  then  lifted  her  on  to  a  Santal  bed- 
stead and  four  men  carried  her  to  the  mission  bungalow. 
We  ran  the  greatest  part  of  the  way  against  a  heavy  shower 
of  rain,  for  it  was  in  the  rainy  season,  and  when  we  reached 
the  bungalow  we  were  all  as  wet  as  we  could  be. 

As  we  ran  we  laid  the  case  before  the  Lord.  If  the 
woman  should  die,  the  heathen  in  the  neighborhood  would 
say  that  the  "Bongas"  or  evil  spirits  had  killed  her  because 
she  was  about  to  become  a  Christian.  And  the  result  would 
be  that  many,  who  were  under  conviction,  and  who  were 


104  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

almost  persuaded,  would  perhaps  draw  back  and  be  lost  to 
the  Kingdom. 

Humanly  speaking  there  was  little  hope  for  the  woman 
but  we  put  the  case  in  God's  hand  and  determined  to  work 
as  long  as  there  were  any  signs  of  life. 

Her  mouth  had  to  be  forced  open  to  get  the  medicine 
in,  and  by  manipulating  her  throat  she  was  made  to  swal- 
low it.  We  rubbed  her  limbs,  tried  to  restore  respiration, 
and  put  hot  water  bottles  about  her,  all  the  time  calling  on 
the  Healer  of  man  to  raise  her  up.  Several  heathen  neigh- 
bors from  the  village  were  there  watching  us,  wondering 
what  would  happen.  I  cannot  explain  how  eagerly  we 
looked  for  signs  of  life.  We  must  have  worked  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  with  her  when  we  noticed  that  her  pulse  was 
getting  stronger,  and,  as  we  placed  a  hot  water  bottle 
against  her  back,  she  winced  and  groaned.  A  few  minutes 
later  she  opened  her  eyes,  gazed  about  her  in  a  half  dazed 
way,  then  stretching  out  her  arms  she  said :  "Where  is 
my  baby?"  The  victory  was  won.  In  a  short  time  she  was 
able  to  walk  about.  Our  hearts  were  overflowing  with 
praise  and  thanksgiving. 

'She  was  able  to  tell  us  afterwards  that  she  went  out  to 
cut  broom  grass,  and  as  she  was  working  a  cobra  darted 
out  and  bit  her  foot.  At  once  she  started  for  the  mission, 
but  after  running  a  little  ways  she  got  so  faint,  that  she 
had  to  sit  down.  Fortunately  there  were  some  shepherd 
boys  near  by,  to  whom  she  could  tell  what  had  happened 
before  she  lost  consciousness.  One  of  those  boys  came  and 
told  us. 

The  next  morning  she  was  able  to  come  to  church  and, 
standing  beside  her  husband  and  children  before  the  con- 
gregation, she  confessed  her  faith  in  God  and  with  her 


SNAKES.  105 

family  received  holy  baptism.  It  was  indeed  a  day  of  re- 
joicing for  the  little  mission  congregation. 

About  a  year  later  a  Christian  woman  from  the  same 
village  was  carried  to  our  house.  She  had  been  found  un- 
conscious under  a  tree.  We  at  once  suspected  snake  poi- 
son and  began  to  treat  her  in  the  same  way  as  Jarta's  wife. 
When  she  regained  consciousness  she  told  us  that  a  cobra 
had  darted  out  from  its  hole  among  the  roots  of  the  tree 
and  with  a  vicious  hiss  had  struck  her.  She  at  once  gave 
herself  up  for  lost,  committed  her  soul  to  her  Maker,  and 
fainted  away.  Her  little  daughter  playing  near  by,  noticed 
that  something  was  the  matter  with  her  mother,  at  once 
ran  home  to  tell  her  big  brother.  With  as  little  delay  as 
possible  the  young  man  got  help  to  bring  her  to  the  mission. 
After  a  few  hours  the  woman  was  able  to  walk  home, 
leaning  on  her  son,  but  it  took  her  several  days  to  get  over 
the  effects  of  the  poison. 

Some  time  later  I  had  another  snake  experience  which 
I  shall  not  forget  very  soon.  Together  with  several  of  our 
native  preachers  I  was  doing  evangelistic  work  in  a  dis- 
trict about  ten  miles  to  the  north  of  our  mission  station. 
We  were  staying  at  a  Government  rest-house.  It  was  in 
March  and  the  weather  was  beginning  to  get  hot,  and  the 
mosquitoes  were  very  troublesome.  In  the  evening  I  put 
my  bed  in  the  center  of  the  room  and  left  the  doors  on  both 
sides  open  to  get  the  benefit  of  whatever  draught  there 
might  be.  Beside  my  bed  was  a  table  on  which  were  some 
tin  cans  and  dishes.  Two  servants  were  sleeping  on  the 
veranda.  They  had  their  sticks  with  them.  In  fact  when 
out  in  camp  the  Santals  have  a  practice  of  going  to  bed 
with  their  sticks.  There  are  snakes  and  scorpions,  jackals 
and  pariah  dogs  about,  and  a  weapon  may  be  required  at 
anv  time. 


106  SKETCHES  FROM  S  ANT  ALI  STAN. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  was  awakened  by 
a  scraping,  rasping  noise  among  the  tin  cans  on  the  table. 
There  was  a  lantern  in  the  room,  but  the  light  was  turned 
dowrn  very  low.  In  the  dim  light  I  thought  I  saw  something 
resembling  a  rope  stretched  from  one  tin  can  to  another 
within  easy  reach  of  my  hand.  I  got  the  lantern,  turned 
up  the  light,  and  there  instead  of  a  rope  was  a  large  snake, 
fixing  me  with  his  cold,  beady  eyes. 

I  called  for  my  men  with  their  sticks  and  between  us 
we  soon  dispatched  the  snake,  and  that  without  breaking  a 
single  dish.  It  was  not  a  cobra  but  was  a  so-called  "kha- 
rite,"  a  tree  snake,  very  poisonous  but  not  so  quick  to  strike 
as  a  cobra.  The  snake  had  evidently  been  looking  for  a 
way  to  get  into  the  thatch  of  the  roof  where  a  lot  of  spar- 
rows had  taken  up  their  abode,  and  in  order  to  get  on  to 
the  table  it  must  have  climbed  up  the  bedpost  right  by  my 
head.  Xo  more  sleep  that  night ! 

Tobacco  acts  on  the  cobra  something  in  the  same  way 
that  it's  poison  acts  on  a  human  being.  Once  I  gave  a  co- 
bra a  tap  on  its  head  with  my  stick  and  stunned  it.  Then  I 
asked  a  Santal  for  a  little  tobacco.  This  I  put  in  the  cleft 
of  a  stick  and  thrust  it  into  the  mouth  of  the  angry  snake 
and  then  let  him  go.  At  once  he  spread  his  hood,  hissed 
and  raised  his  head  and  we  all  kept  at  a  safe  distance.  But 
it  didn't  last  long,  soon  he  seemed  to  get  drowsy.  His  head 
came  down,  and  he  acted  as  if  he  were  drunk.  Xo  amount 
of  teasing  would  arouse  him.  Finally  we  pronounced  him 
dead. 

I  said  to  the  Santals :  Xow  you  can  see  what  a  great 
poison  tobacco  is  that  it  kills  even  a  cobra. 

Quite  a  crowd  had  gathered  to  watch  the  performance 
and  someone  made  the  remark  that  the  cobra  was  perhaps 
only  drunk  from  the  effects  of  the  tobacco,  and  that  it 


SNAKES.  107 

would  come  to  life  again.  So  we  put  the  snake  in  an  old 
earthen  pot  and  covered  it  up,  and  the  next  morning  there 
was  no  doubt  that  the  cobra  was  dead  "for  good  and  al- 
ways." Since  then  we  have  tried  the  tobacco  experiment 
several  times  and  it  always  works  out  the  same  way.  To- 
bacco is  poison  for  the  cobra. 

The  natives  are  very  much  afraid  of  cobras,  and  well 
they  may  be,  for  their  bare  feet  and  legs  make  an  easy  tar- 
get for  the  poisonous  fangs  of  the  snake.  When  out  at 
night  people  often  carry  long  sticks  with  which  they  beat 
the  road  in  front  of  them.  In  that  way  they  mean  to 
frighten  away  any  snake  which  may  be  about. 

Once  we  had  a  Mohammedan  living  in  our  compound. 
He  was  a  Sheik  and  thought  himself  a  very  brave  man, 
afraid  of  nothing  under  the  sun.  Early  one  morning  I 
saw  him  throwing  stones  and  brickbats  in  through  the 
open  door  of  his  house,  all  the  time  shouting  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  At  first  I  thought  he  had  lost  what  little  reason 
he  had,  and  was  running  amuck,  but  finally  I  distinguished 
the  word  "sap,"  which  means  snake,  and  went  over  to  see 
what  was  up.  There  in  a  corner  of  the  man's  room  was  a 
large  cobra  with  hood  expanded  hissing  away  ready  for 
business.  A  good  whack  across  his  neck  soon  settled  him 
and  he  was  brought  out  hanging  limp  from  my  stick.  The 
Sheik  salaamed  and  said:  "The  Saheb  knows  mantras." 

During  the  hot  weather  snake-charmers  often  come  to 
show  us  their  pets  and  to  make  them  "dance"  for  us  as 
they  express  it.  They  carry  their  pets  about  in  small, 
covered  baskets.  When  they  want  to  give  an  exhibition 
they  squat  on  the  ground  and  place  the  baskets  in  a  row  in 
front  of  them.  Then  they  beat  a  little  rattledrum  and  play 
some  weird  music  on  an  instrument  made  from  gourd.  One 
by  one  the  covers  are  then  removed  and  the  cobras  raise 


108 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAX. 


their  hooded  heads  and  sway  from  side  to  side,  or  bob  up 
and  down  while  the  snake-charmer  and  his  assistant  "make 
music."  Of  course  the  men  are  careful  to  remove  the 
fangs  from  the  poisonous  snakes  before  taking  them  out  to 
exhibit. 

Sometimes  they  carry  about  with  them  great     pythons 


THE  SNAKE  CHARMER, 

more  than  ten  feet  long  and  wind  them  about  their  necks 
and  bodies. 

In  Benares  one  day  we  saw  a  snake  that  looked  as  if  it 
had  a  head  at  both  ends.  The  Hindus  call  it  the  two-head- 
ed snake,  but  on  closer  examination  it  appears  that  one  of 
the  heads  is  only  a  blunt  tail. 


THE    RAINS. 


The  rains  are  supposed  to  make  their  appearance  about 
the  middle  of  June  every  year,  and  last  in  this  district  until 
the  middle  of  September.  Why  it  is  called  "rains"  and  not 
simply  "rain"'  no  one  can  explain,  but  after  spending  a 
rainy  season  or  two  in  this  country  you  will  ask  no  ques- 
tions, but  think  the  designation  quite  proper. 

For  a  couple  of  months  before  the  rains  set  in  it  is  very 
hot  and  dry.  So  dry  in  fact  that  the  ground  cracks.  The 
sun  beats  down  from  a  brazen  cloudless  sky  scorching 
everything.  The  leaves  shrivel  up  and  fall  like  after  a  frost 
at  home.  And  all  living  things  suffer.  Even  the  crow  has 
nothing  much  to  say,  but  hops  about  gaping  ridiculously. 
And  anything  that  can  silence  the  Indian  crow  is  not 
likely  to  be  a  fake,  that  is  certain. 

Yellow  pariah  dogs  hop  about  on  three  legs  resting  one 
at  the  time  from  the  scorching  heat  of  the  road.  And  dust 
is  thick  everywhere.  Then  it  is  that  people  travel  by  night 
and  get  under  a  shelter  before  the  sun  has  passed  one  fourth 
of  the  sky. 

About  this  time  one  begins  to  get  interested  in  the  week- 

109 


110 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALTSTAN. 


ly  weather  report  of  the  government  meteorological  depart- 
ment to  see  if  they  have  located  the  monsoon  or  not,  and  if 
they  have,  how  far  up  it  has  got.     It  is  to  come  up  through 
the  Bay  of  Bengal  and  bring  new  life  to  scorched  and  thir 
sty  millions. 

Before     the  rains  set  in  we  sometimes     get     thunder- 


PLOWING. 

storms.  They  usually  come  on  in  the  afternoon  and  from 
the  west.  First  a  black  cloud  is  seen  overhanging  the  west- 
ern sky.  As  it  draws  nearer  it  changes  color.  First  gray 
then  yellow,  then  purple.  The  rumbling  of  thunder  is 
heard.  In  a  few  minutes  the  landscape  is  blotted  out. 
Dust,  dead  leaves,  more  dust  flies  about  you,  envelopes 


THE  RAINS.  Ill 

you,  and  gets  into  your  eyes  and  nose.  Trees  are  blown 
over,  thatch  torn  from  the  roof.  All  doors  and  shutters 
are  closed.  It  is  dark,  almost  like  night.  The  storm  howls. 
Blinding  flashes  of  lightning  pierce  the  dusty  gloom.  The 
very  foundations  of  the  house  quake  from  the  claps  of 
thunder. 

The  result  of  this  tremendous  uproar  may  be  only  a 
few  scattered  drops  of  rain,  or  it  may  be  a  hailstorm  ac- 
companied by  a  copious  downpour  filling  the  dried  up  tanks 
and  water  courses,  strewing  the  compound  with  leaves  and 
debris,  but  relieving  the  heat  for  a  few  days.  However 
this  is  not  the  ''rains." 

They  come  on  the  fifteenth  of  June.  A  soft  wind  from 
the  south  east  swishes  through  the  palms.  White  clouds 
come  up.  A  drizzle  falls  upon  the  parched  ground.  More 
clouds  hurry  across  the  sky  to  bring  relief  to  all  living  be- 
ings. It  rains  and  rains.  The  mailrunner  brings  the  news- 
paper. It  is  soaked,  but  you  read  with  satisfaction  the 
broad  headlines :  "The  Monsoon  has  burst." 

In  a  clay  or  two  the  bare  sunbaked  ground  is  trans- 
formed. Green,  green  everywhere.  The  fireflies  dart  in 
and  out  among  the  tender  leaves  of  the  teak  and  tamerind 
trees.  The  gold  mohar  tree  is  ablaze  with  red  flowers. 
Everything  is  throbbing  with  life. 

Frogs  croak  everywhere.  Some  of  them  bray  like  goats. 
The  crow  has  found  its  voice  and  caws  with  impunity. 

The  Santal  puts  away  his  superfluous  clothes,  oils  his 
skin,  gets  his  plow  out  and  repairs  it  and  looks  as  if  he  is 
going  to  get  busy.  Even  the  laziest  of  the  lazy  seems  to 
have  gotten  some  energy.  It  is  the  influence  of  the  rainy 
season  on  the  sons  of  the  soil. 

Too  much  spoils  everything.  Rain  all  day,  rain  all 
night.  You  are  longing  for  a  glimpse  of  the  sun,  because 


112 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


you  want  to  set  your  clock  right,  but  it  persists  in  hiding 
itself  and  you  feel  lonesome  for  it. 

Damp  and  wet  all  over,  everywhere.  Xo  dry  clothes  to 
put  on.  They  are  all  damp.  Your  pillow  is  damp.  Your 
furniture  seems  to  perspire.  Your  shoes  -  -  well  you  re- 
member distinctly  that  they  were  black  yesterday  --  today 
they  are  nearly  white,  covered  with  mould. 


PLOWING. 

Then  one  morning  the  sun  comes  out  gloriously  bright. 
Then  is  your  opportunity  to  get  your  rooms  and  clothes 
dried. 

From  misty  morning  til  evening  dusk  everybody  is  busy 
in  the  fields.  First  the  embankments  between  the  ricefields 
must  be  repaired  so  the  water  will  stay  in  them.  Then  the 


THE  RAINS. 


113 


water-covered  field  is  plowed  two  or  three  times  with  a 
little  wooden  plow  drawn  by  a  pair  of  humpbacked  oxen. 
When  the  field  is  ready,  the  little  rice  shoots  are  brought 
and  set  out  by  the  women  wallowing  knee  deep  in  the  mud. 
Soon  field  after  field  is  planted,  turns  dark  green  as  the 
shoots  take  root  and  grow.  The  landscape  is  transformed. 
The  desert  is  truly  blossoming. 


A   REAPER. 

About  the  steaming  hot  nights,  the  mosquitoes  and  the 
tired  feeling  you  do  not  wish  to  talk.  You  feel  you  are  a 
foreigner  because  the  rains  do  not  infuse  you  with  energy. 
It  is  rather  the  other  way.  You  do  not  want  to  admit  that 
you  get  lazy,  but  you  observe  in  yourself  a  strange  disin- 
clination to  work.  You  want  a  long  chair  under  the  swing- 


114 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAN. 


ing  panka  where  you  can  lie  back  in  comfort  and  dream  of 
the  old  homestead  way  out  on  the  western  prairies  of  God's 
country.  You  close  your  eyes  and  see  it.  A  cool  breeze 
fans  your  cheek,  light  fleecy  clouds  chase  each  other  a- 
cross  the  deep  blue  Minnesota  sky.  The  wheat-fields  look 
like  a  billowy  sea.  The  air  is  full  of  the  breath  of  new- 
mown  hay.  You  dream. 

"Sabeb,  they  have  brought  a  girl  with  a  broken  arm," 
says  a  soft  voice  beside  you.  It  startles  you.  You  have 
not  heard  the  footsteps  of  your  servant  as  he  came  to  tell 
you.  You  were  far  away,  Dreams  aside,  now  it  is  work. 


SCENE  FROM  KAERABANI. 


A   NIGHT    IN    A    DAK    BUNGALOW. 


'ii  is  Hindustan,  and  evening,  and  a  lonesome  Dak  bun- 
ga\uw  or  government  rest-house  by  the  side  of  a  long  and 
dusty  road.  The  sun  has  just  set  across  the  hazy  hills  in 
easterxj  Chota  Nagpore.  Such  a  sunset!  An  Oriental  sun- 
set !  As  the  yellow  dis°.  descended  behind  the  hilltops  it 
drew  before  its  mysterious  exit  a  curtain  of  glowing  red.: 
A  few  moments  its  gauzy  web  hung  over  the  western  sky ; 
soon  it  softened  into  saffron,  which  again  slowly  yielded 
to  prosaic  gray. 

Then  came  the  short  truce  between  light  and  darkness — 
which  men  call  twilight  -  -  the  "Hinterland"  of  day,  the; 
borderland  between  the  world  of  deeds  and  the  world  of 
dreams. 

The  ne.v  moon  outlines  its  silvery  sickle  against  the 
background  of  gathering  gloom. 

From  the  native  quarters  behind  the  bungalow  the  el- 
ders and  teac'hers  are  chanting  sleepily.  It  is  one  of  those 
weird  chants  which  for  the  western  ear  possesses  no  melody 
save  the  melody  of  infinite  sadness.  It  is  one  of  the  old 
Santal  chants,  l^  which  Christian  words  have  been  com- 

115 


116 


SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTALISTAX. 


posed.  To  the  ear  of  a  novice  the  tunes  are  nearly  all 
alike.  And  not  only  those  of  the  Santals,  but  also  those  of 
the  other  natives  of  the  land,  as  well.  The  words  and  me- 
ter may  vary,  but  the  cadence  in  the  main  is  the  same.  - 
It  is  the  song  of  Hindustan — the  dirge  of  one  lamenting 
his  long-departed  youth  and  its  divine  illusions. 


A  LONELY  BUNGALOW. 

If  you  listen  a  while  to  that  song,  so  spiritless  and  tune- 
less and  endless,  you  can  hear  the  servitude  of  millions,  of 
myriads  of  men  and  women  who  have  learned  in  suffering 
something  which  they  try  to  teach  in  song.  The  essence  of 
centuries  of  longings  and  heartaches  and  frustrated  hopes 
is  trying  to  find  expression  in  one  dreamy,  plaintive  re- 
frain. 


A  NIGHT  IN  A  DAK  BUNGALOW.  117 

But  night  is  here.  You  walk  forth  and  back  on  the  ve- 
randa while  your  servant  is  trying  to  set  your  supper-table 
on  an  upturned  grocery  box. 

The  sounds  of  day  are  hushed  and  the  voices  of  the 
night  are  heard.  The  moon  is  disappearing.  The  blades  of 
yonder  palm  are  silhouetted  against  the  starry  sky,  blades 
as  delicately  curved  as  the  edge  of  a  scimitar.  Among  the 
branches  of  the  mango  trees  a  few  fireflies  gleam  inter- 
mittently, illuminating  nothing  but  themselves.  And  the 
cricket  sings.  This  is  a  land  where  the  cricket  chirps 
through  all  the  year,  and  his  song  is  melancholy,  plaintive 
and  dreamy,  like  the  song  of  the  other  natives  of  the  land. 

In  the  solitude  of  the  hot,  sleepless  nights  the  cricket  is 
your  companion  and  counselor.  How  intimate  his  song 
can  grow.  You  read  into  those  monotonous  strains  all 
your  emotions  until  you  cease  to  have  any.  Teh.  tch,  tch ! 
It  sounds  as  if  it  had  been  ringing  from  the  beginning  of 
time  and  was  destined  to  go  on  ringing  to  the  end. 

At  first  it  irritates  you,  then  it  depresses ;  but  in  the  end 
it  dominates  you.  Struggle  as  you  will,  you  are  doomed  to 
succumb  to  its  soothing  strains.  Tch,  tch,  tch !  Night  after 
night,  it  seems  to  din  into  your  ear  the  essence  of  eternal 
monotony. 

But  the  crickets  are  not  your  only  companions  and  coun- 
selors. They  only  bring  the  refrain  to  the  music  of  the  un- 
seen world. 

Your  eye  as  well  as  your  ear  is  subject  to  the  spell  of 
night.  The  moon  has  now  disappeared  and  there  is  the 
march  of  the  stars,  --a  mighty  host,  ever  moving  on- 
ward, slow,  solemn  and  silently  eloquent.  Here  they 
scintillate  in  companies,  there  they  shine  in  awful  isolation. 
Some  burn  with  a  steady,  penetrating  brilliance,  which 
seems  to  pierce  your  very  soul,  others  twinkle,  as  it  were. 


118  SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTALISTAX. 

in  unison  with  the  notes  of  the  cricket.  The  song  of  the 
universe,  the  music  of  the  spheres  — let  them  call  it  what 
they  will  --  but  the  spell  of  the  night  is  upon  you  —  and 
the  spell  of  the  mysterious  East. 

''Khana  Saheb !"  calls  you  back  to  things  terrestrial. 
On  your  box  is  your  curry  and  rice,  the  food  of  the  East. 
A  few  years  in  Bengal  have  taught  you  to  like  it.  Now 
you  want  it  hot  with  pepper  and  other  condiments,  —  again 
the  influence  of  the  East. 

The  Christian  workers  gather.  You  discuss  the  work 
of  the  day  with  them  and  at  last  commit  yourself  and  them 
into  the  hands  of  Him  who  sleepeth  not. 

Your  "charpoi"  palmetto  mat  and  blankets  are  ready. 
With  a  "johar,"  the  servant  disappears  into  the  night.  You 
are  alone  with  your  own  thoughts  —  and  the  crickets.  You 
turn  the  light  of  the  lantern  low,  and  as  you  do  so  the  trade 
mark  on  the  lantern  chimney  catches  your  eye.  You  read 
the  words :  "Made  in  Austria." 

"Made  in  Austria  --  made  in  Austria"  -  The  cricket 
takes  up  the  words  and  fits  them  into  his  notes  and  chirps 
them  into  your  soul.  You  try  to  rid  yourself  of  them,  but 
you  cannot ;  you  are  under  his  spell.  You  want  him  to  say 
"America"  and  not  "Austria,"  but  he  persists.  At  last  you 
give  up  and  say :  "What's  the  difference,  Austria  or  Amer- 
ica? it  is  exotic,  foreign,  anyway.  Let  it  go  with  "Au- 
stria." Finally  his  song  seems  to  grow  fainter  and  fainter. 
From  the  far  away  distance  is  wafted  back  to  you,  from  the 
the  shores  of  the  sea  of  stillness,  faintly,  very  faintly, 
"Austria  — A  u  s  t  r  i  a." 


WITCHES. 


The  belief  in  witches  and  witchcraft  is  firmly  rooted  in 
the  hearts  and  minds  of  the  Santal.  However,  the  Santals 
are  not  alone  about  this  belief,  it  is  common  both  among 
the  Hindus  and  Mohammedans  in  this  district.  Almost 
daily  the  magistrates  in  our  courts  have  to  hear  cases  in 
which  women  are  accused  of  witchcraft,  or  some  trouble 
has  arisen  at  the  bottom  of  which  this  belief  is  to  be  found. 

In  their  old  "Sagas"  or  traditions  the  Santals  tell  us 
how  it  was  brought  about  that  they  learned  the  craft. 

"Once  long,  long  ago  the  Santal  men  met  together  to 
discuss  the  question,  what  they  ought  to  do  with  their 
wives.  They  were  entirely  out  of  hand  and  did  not  obey 
their  husbands.  When  asked  to  do  a  thing,  or  on  being 
corrected  by  their  husbands  as  the  head  of  the  family,  the 
women  would  turn  around  and  abuse  and  scold  them.  And 
as  everyone  knows,  when  it  comes  to  abuse,  a  man  is  no 
match  for  a  woman.  The  men  agreed  to  carry  their  griev- 
ances to  Marang  Burn,  the  devil,  and  ask  his  assistance. 

At  midnight  they  gathered  in  the  sacred  grove,  called 
Marang  Burn,  and  addressing  him  as  grandfather  laid 

119 


120  SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTALISTAN. 

their  troubles  before  him.  The  old  man  very  graciously 
consented  to  help  them.  He  would  give  them  occult  power 
which  would  enable  them  to  defend  themselves  against 
the  wiles  of  their  women.  Before  he  granted  them  the  pow- 
er they  would,  however,  have  to  make  their  signatures  on 
his  documents  in  their  own  blood.  He  gathered  some  leaves 
from  a  sacred  tree  and  asked  the  men  to  draw  blood  and 
put  their  marks  on  the  leaves.  This  frightened  the  men 
and  they  asked  their  grandfather  to  kindly  excuse  them 
for  the  time  being,  they  would  return  the  next  night  and 
sign  the  documents. 

Unknown  to  the  men  some  women  had  followed  them 
to  the  grove  and  from  their  hiding  place  heard  everything 
that  was  said.  When  they  saw  the  men  arise  they  hurried 
home  by  a  short  cut,  and  before  the  men  arrived  all  the 
women  in  the  village  knew  just  exactly  how  the  land  lay. 

The  next  day  the  men  found  a  great  change  in  their 
women-folks.  They  were  as  amiable  and  nice  as  they  could 
be  and  the  men  began  to  think  that  it  would  not  be  neces- 
sary for  them  to  sign  Marang  Burns  documents.  The 
next  night  they  did  not  return  to  the  grove  as  they  had 
promised.  On  the  following  day  the  women  wrere  still  more 
loving  and  kind  to  them,  gave  them  extraordinary  good 
things  to  eat,  brewed  rice  beer  and  gave  them  so  much  of 
it  that  by  night  they  were  dead  drunk. 

This  was  the  opportunity  the  women  were  looking  for. 
They  took  their  husbands  clothes  and  turbans,  pasted  some 
goatshair  on  their  upper  lips  and  at  midnight  started  for 
the  sacred  grove.  After  having  saluted  their  grandfather 
they  asked  him  to  bring  his  leaves  that  they  might  sign 
them,  for  they  could  no  longer  endure  the  torments  of 
their  wives. 

Marang  Buru  brought  the  leaves,  the  women  pricked 


WITCHES.  121 

their  skins  with  thorns,  pressed  out  a  drop  of  blood  and 
signed  their  husbands'  marks  on  the  leaves.  Marang  Buru 
then  taught  them  witchcraft  and  gave  them  full  directions 
how  to  "eat  people."  Before  cock's  crow  they  returned  to 
their  homes  rejoicing. 

After  their  debauch  the  men  slept  rather  late  the  next 
morning  and  were  not  in  the  best  of  humor  when  they  at 
last  got  about.  They  very  soon  found  out  that  their  women 
had  not  reformed  after  all.  They  were  worse  than  ever. 
Again  they  'had  a  consultation  and  decided  to  go  that  very 
night  and  put  their  marks  on  Marang  Burns  leaves. 

When  they  told  their  grandfather  what  they  wanted  he 
was  very  much  surprised  and  said :  "I  have  already  taught 
you.  What  more  do  you  want?"  But  the  men  declared  that 
they  had  not  been  near  him  since  the  first  night  when  he 
asked  them  to  sign  and  they  promised  that  they  would  re- 
turn the  next  night.  Marang  Buru,  however,  brought  out 
the  leaves  and  asked  the  men  to  see  for  themselves  if  it  was 
their  marks  or  not.  They  had  to  admit  the  marks  but  de- 
clared that  they  did  not  put  them  there. 

When  Marang  Buru  at  last  understood  that  the  women 
had  deceived  both  himself  and  their  husbands  he  got  into 
a  great  rage  and  swore  that  they  would  yet  get  even  with 
those  rascally  women.  He  got  some  more  leaves  and  asked 
the  men  to  put  their  marks  on  them.  This  they  did  as  di- 
rected and  Marang  Buru  then  set  out  to  teach  them  the 
art  of  the  Jan  Guru,  how  to  find  out  witches.  And  ever 
since  that  time  there  has  been  enmity  between  the  witches 
and  the  Jan  Guru. 

The  Santals  believe  that  the  witches  have  their  meetings 
at  night  in  some  sacred  grove  or  forest.  When  their  hus- 
bands are  asleep  they  get  up,  say  some  incantations  and  put 
a  broom  or  some  similar  object  in  the  bed  beside  them  and 


122  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALlSTAN. 

the  men,  poor  fools,  feeling  the  broom  beside  them  believe 
it  to  be  their  wives  and  have  no  idea  of  what  is  really  going 
on. 

It  is  also  believed  that  witches  do  not  walk  on  the 
ground,  but  by  means  of  sorcery  fly  through  the  air  in 
whatever  direction  they  wish.  The  "Bongas"  also  appear 
to  them  and  dance  and  flirt  with  them.  They  also  play 
with  tigers,  ride  on  them,  caress,  and  kiss  them.  These 
gambols  they  continue  till  nearly  cock  crow,  when  they  re- 
turn to  their  homes  remove  the  broom  and  lie  down  in  their 
proper  places. 

Witches  make  pupils  of  young  girls.  At  night  they  go 
about  from  house  to  house  and  call  for  them.  Then  they 
take  them  to  the  sacred  grove,  teach  them  "mantras"  and 
other  things  pertaining  to  the  practice  of  witchcraft.  If 
the  girls  are  unwilling  to  learn  they  tell  them  that  the  ti- 
gers will  eat  them  and  thus  frighten  them  into  learning. 
When  a  pupil  has  advanced  far  enough  they  put  her  to  a 
test  by  asking  her  to  "eat"  some  one  of  her  own  relatives, 
her  father,  brother  or  sister.  Should  a  pupil  refuse  to 
submit  herself  to  this  test  the  witches  will  make  her  ill  or 
cause  her  to  become  demented  or  mad.  Witches  must  feel 
no  mercy  for  anybody,  not  even  their  own  husbands  and 
children. 

It  is  very  easy  for  the  missionary  to  ridicule  all  this 
talk  about  witches  and  brand  it  as  silly  nonsense,  but  the 
fact  still  remains  that  to  the  Santals  these  things  are  act- 
ual and  real. 

The  Bonga  worship  of  the  Santals  is  essentially  a  man's 
religion.  Women  have  almost  no  place  in  it.  Many  of 
the  sacrifices  she  may  neither  touch  nor  taste.  For  this 
reason  it  may  be  that  the  women  may  have  felt  a  desire  for 
some  sort  of  worship  of  their  own,  that  may  account  for 


WITCHES.  123 

their  nightly  gambols  and  offerings.  That  they  possess 
any  occult  power  by  which  they  caus.e  their  victims  to  be- 
come sick  and  die  is  very  improbable.  There  are  plenty  of 
herbs  and  roots  which  if  given  to  anyone  together  with 
their  food  will  cause  sickness  and  death.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  fact  remains  that  the  belief  in  witchcraft  is  a  supersti- 
tion that  dies  hard.  Every  now  and  then  a  case  will  crop 
up  among  the  Christians,  where  some  poor  woman  is  su- 
spected of  practicing  witchcraft. 

One  morning  a  big  Santal  came  up  to  me  and  asked  me 
to  look  at  his  back  and  shoulders.  One  glance  at  his  broad, 
brown  back  told  me  that  he  had  been  in  a  fight  and  had 
rather  got  the  worst  of  it.  He  had  received  a  good  beating. 

I  knew  the  young  man  well,  and  instead  of  sympathizing 
with  him  told  him  that  I  was  ashamed  to  see  that  he,  a 
giant  of  a  man,  had  let  himself  be  licked.  But  my  banter 
did  not  have  the  desired  effect.  The  young  man  sat  down 
and  cried  like  a  baby.  He  finally  told  us  that  his  father 
had  given  him  the  beating.  His  father  was  a  thin  wea- 
zened old  man  whom  one  would  not  quickly  suspect  of 
such  deeds. 

''Why  did  your  father  beat  you?" 

"Because  I  would  not  send  my  wife  away.  How  can  I 
send  her  away  now,  we  have  three  children ;  who  will  take 
care  of  them  if  I  send  her  away?" 

"But  why  should  you  send  your  wife  away?" 

Little  by  little  the  facts  of  the  case  came  out.  The  old 
man  and  his  four  sons  and  their  families  live  close  together, 
and,  as  the  custom  is  among  the  Santals,  work  their  fields 
jointly  and  hold  a  good  deal  of  the  property  in  common. 
Except  the  oldest  son  and  his  family  they  are  all  Christians. 
Of  late  there  has  been  a  good  deal  of  sickness  in  the  family 
of  the  eldest  son.  One  medicine  man  after  the  other  had 


124  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

been  called  in  without  result.  At  last  a  medicine  man 
greater  than  all  the  rest  was  called  in  and  he  succeeded  in 
finding  out  what  the  trouble  was  why  the  medicine  did  not 
have  any  power  to  heal  the  sick  ones.  There  was  a  witch 
at  the  bottom  of  the  trouble.  The  help  of  a  witch-finder 
was  then  sought.  This  dignitary  after  receiving  his  fee 


A  MEDICINE  MAN. 

led  the  suspicion  towards  the  wife  of  the  second  son.  He 
did  not  mention  her  by  name  but  by  hints  and  parables  at 
which  they  are  such  adepts,  gave  the  men  to  understand 
just  exactly  who  was  meant. 

On  returning  from  the  witch-finder  the  old  man  took 
the  case  in  his  own  hands.  The  suspected  daughter-in-law 
was  ordered  to  make  the  sick  ones  well  at  once.  She  pro- 


WITCHES. 


125 


tested  that  she  was  innocent.  Then  he  ordered  her  to 
leave  her  house  and  family  and  never  to  show  her  face  there 
again.  On  this  he  got  his  stick  and  proceeded  to  enforce 
his  order  at  once.  Then  the  son  interfered  with  the  result 
that  he  received  a  good  beating. 

We  adviced  the  young  man  to  go  home  and  keep  quiet 
for  a  few  days,  then  we  would  take  up  the  case  and  try  to 
restore  peace. 

A  week  or  two  later  we  gathered  the  whole  family  and 
had  a  heart  to  heart  talk  with  them.  By  that  time  the  old 
man  was  thoroughly  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done  and 
ready  to  sue  for  terms.  \Ye  asked  him  to  beg  his  daughter- 
in-law's  forgiveness  and  to  make  her  a  present  of  a  cloth. 
And  for  the  offence  he  had  caused  in  the  church  by  running 
after  witch-finders  and  believing  in  their  humbug,  he  was 
asked  to  drop  forty  cents  in  the  collection  box  for  the  poor. 


THE   JAN    GURU. 


He  is  a  rather  pleasant  old  man  and  fond  of  a  joke. 
You  will  find  him  squatting  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  village 
streets  as  you  pass  through.  His  name  is  Jarta,  or  rather 
that  is  the  name  he  is  known  by.  What  his  real  name  is,  I 
do  not  know.  Jarta  means  matted  locks.  For  years  and 
years,  perhaps  from  the  time  he  was  a  small  boy.  Jarta's 
hair  has  never  been  washed,  combed  or  cut.  It  has  been 
allowed  to  grow  and  has  through  the  years  gathered  itself 
into  four  or  five  matted  locks  stiff  with  ancient  dirt  and 
oil.  They  look  like  pieces  of  dirty  ropes  hanging  down  his 
back  or  wound  around  his  head. 

If  you  look  closely  at  his  face  you  can  tell  that  he  is  a 
cunning  and  crafty  man.  His  small  shifting  eyes  take  in 
everything  about  you  at  a  glance.  And  cunning  and  crafty 
he  needs  to  be  for  he  is  a  Jan  Guru  and  that  means  a  witch- 
finder. 

Jarta  is  indeed  a  bad  man  and  has  caused  a  lot  of  mis- 
chief among  his  people.  Yet  he  is  very  nice  and  polite  and 
likes  to  talk  to  you,  that  is  as  long  as  you  don't  talk  to  him 
about  his  Savior  and  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  As  soon  as 

126 


THE  JAN  GURU. 


127 


that  subject  is  broached  he  becomes  quiet,  and  if  you  keep 
on  he  will  get  up  and  leave  you ;  but  he  will  never  dispute  or 
argue  with  you. 

The  heathen  Santals  believe  firmly  in  witchcraft,  and 
when  they  are  sick  they  always  fear  that  some  witch  is  at 
the  bottom  of  their  trouble,  and,  as  they  express  it,  is  eating 


THE  JAN  GURU. 

out  their  insides.  Like  everyone  else  a  sick  Santal  wishes 
to  get  well  as  soon  as  possible,  so  he  sends  for  an  Ojha  or 
medicine-man.  That  dignitary  comes,  feels  the  pulse  of 
the  sick  one  and  shakes  his  head  like  a  real  doctor.  He 
then  goes  out,  collects  the  friends  of  the  patient  and  gives 
them  the  result  of  his  diagnosis.  He  has  found  the  sick 
one  in  a  very  bad  state  indeed.  It  must  be  either  "Bonga" 


128  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

or  a  witch  that  is  causing  the  mischief.  Do  the  friends 
wish  him  to  find  out  for  them? 

"Yes,  by  all   means !"   they  answer. 

The  Ojha  then  asks  his  fee.  When  that  is  secured  he 
gets  two  leaves  from  the  sal  tree,  puts  a  few  drops  of  oil 
on  them,  rubs  them  against  each  other  and  from  the  marks 
the  oil  has  made  on  the  leaves  pretends  to  read  the  cause 
of  the  sickness.  If  it  is  found  to  be  a  "Bonga"  that  is 
tormenting  the  victim,  that  personality  must  by  means  of 
offerings  be  persuaded  to  leave.  If  it  is  a  witch,  she  must 
be  found  and  brought  to  terms,  and  there  is  where  the  Jan 
Guru  comes  in.  He  alone  can  tell  who  the  witch  is  that 
causes  the  trouble. 

As  soon  as  the  relatives  of  the  sick  find  out  that  it  is 
a  witch  that  is  "eating"  their  friend  they  lose  no  time  but 
prepare  at  once  to  go  to  some  Jan  Guru.  A  whole  party 
will  go,  often  one  man  from  each  house  in  the  village. 
Their  mission  is  a  secret  one  and  they  will  tell  no  one 
where  they  are  going  and  often  even  get  to  their  destina- 
tion by  a  circuitous  route.  This  is  done  to  prevent  evil 
spirits  from  putting  obstacles  in  their  way. 

Arriving  at  the  village  of  the  Jan  Guru,  they  usually 
have  to  wait  a  while  before  they  get  an  audience.  They 
must  first  send  him  presents  and  offerings.  When  they 
come  before  him  he  will  ask  a  number  of  leading  questions 
about  the  neighbors  and  relatives  of  the  sick  one,  and  he 
usually  manages  to  get  at  what  he  wants  without  arousing 
the  suspicions  of  the  people  who  have  come  to  him.  He 
will  find  out,  perhaps,  that  the  wife  of  the  sick  man  has 
been  quarreling  with  some  other  woman  in  the  village  who 
has  been  found  guilty  of  witchcraft  before.  He  will  settle 
on  some  one,  and  after  certain  ceremonies  are  gone  through, 
he  will  begin  to  describe  the  house  she  lives  in,  her  relation 


THE  JAN  GURU.  129 

to  the  sick  one  and  other  things  about  her,  so  that  although 
he  names  no  one,  everybody  is  sure  of  whom  he  means. 

The  most  of  the  men  went  away  suspecting  just  that 
woman,  and  now  their  suspicions  are  confirmed.  With 
the  Jan  Guru  it  was  a  case  of  finding  out  just  what  advice 
was  wanted  and  giving  them  that. 

The  Jan  Guru  may  also  have  a  tout  or  helper  who  will 
get  into  the  confidence  of  the  men,  and  having  found  out 
everything,  bring  word  to  his  accomplice,  sharing  the  pro- 
fits. 

The  party  now  returns  home  and  then  trouble  begins. 
The  poor  suspected  women  is  dragged  out  and  threatened 
with  all  sorts  of  violence,  and  if  the  sick  one  does  not  im- 
prove, they  will  carry  out  their  threats.  It  is  not  uncom- 
mon that  all  this  fuss  togather  with  the  assurance  that  the 
witch  has  really  been  discovered,  has  a  restorative  effect 
on  the  sick  one,  and  he  begins  to  feel  better.  If  he  does 
not  improve,  you  may  pity  the  poor  witch. 

A  few  years  ago  some  people  from  a  village  six  miles 
away  came  to  Jarta  with  their  troubles.  The  son  of  their 
headman  was  at  death's  door.  After  receiving  his  fee  Jarta 
went  into  a  trance  and  indicated  who  the  witch  was.  The 
men  went  home  and  threatened  her,  but  the  boy  did  not 
improve.  When  he  was  dying  they  drove  the  poor  woman 
out  of  the  village  and  beat  her  so  that  she  died  from  the 
treatment  she  received.  Of  course  the  offenders  were  put 
in  prison  for  it.  Old  men  will  tell  you  that  it  was  not  at 
all  uncommon  in  olden  times  to  put  witches  to  death.  Now 
the  usual  thing  is  to  drive  them  from  their  villages.  Many 
a  home  has  been  broken  up  that  way,  and  many  a  woman 
has  had  to  leave  husband  and  children  and  flee  to  her 


130 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


friends,  if  she  had  any,  because  she  was  accused  of  witch- 
craft. 

The  old  Jan  Guru  knows  he  is  a  humbug  but  he  won't 
leave  off  his  evil  practice  because  he  makes  an  easy  living 
by  it. 


A  SACRED  GROVE. 


IN    CAMP. 


During  the  rainy  season  it  is  not  possible  for  the  mis- 
sionary to  do  much  village  visiting.  For  one  thing  the  mud 
is  too  deep  in  many  places  even  for  a  horse  to  get  through, 
and  unless  the  missionary  is  bare  of  foot  and  leg,  can  walk 
the  embankments  between  the  flooded  rice  fields  and  wade 
through  the  brooks  and  mud,  he  will  find  it  rather  hard  to 
get  about.  And  besides,  he  will  likely  as  not  find  the  vil- 
lage empty  of  people  when  he  gets  there.  Every  man  wo- 
man and  child  who  is  able  to  wrork  will  be  busy  in  the  fields. 
During  this  time  of  the  year  the  native  Christian  workers 
go  about  from  ricefield  to  ricefield  and  stop  to  speak  a 
word  to  the  busy  plowmen  or  the  women  at  work  planting. 

By  the  first  of  October  the  roads  will  be  passable,  the 
people  at  leisure,  and  the  mornings  cool  and  comfortable. 
Then,  if  you  are  a  hustling  missionary,  you  will  get  out 
into  camp.  You  leave  home  for  a  week  at  the  time  and  go 
to  some  of  the  out-stations  of  your  district.  The  workers 
in  charge  of  the  station  has  been  looking  forward  to  your 
coming,  and  the  place  will  be  cleaned  up  spick  and  span. 
Usually  there  is  a  room  for  you  to  stay  in,  and  you  bring 

131 


132 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


out  with  you  a  little  furniture,  such  as  a  table,  a  chair  and 
a  bed.  Of  course  to  a  jungle  missionary  these  things  are 
not  absolutely  necessary ;  you  can  get  along  with  a  mat  on 
the  floor  for  bed  and  squat  on  the  floor  when  you  take  your 
meals.  It  is  wonderful  how  many  things  you  can  get  along 
without  and  yet  be  perfectly  happy.  One  thing,  however, 


PLANTING  RICE. 

you  had  better  not  forget,  and  that  is  to  bring  your  cook. 
You  can  not  afford  to  take  any  chances  with  your  stomach 
in  this  country. 

If  you  have  no  mission  out-station  to  go  to,  there  is 
perhaps  a  Government  Dak  bungalow  in  which  you  can 
stay,  while  you  work  in  the  villages  about.  These  bunga- 


IN  CAMP.  133 

lows  or  rest-houses  are  built  by  the  government  for  magi- 
strates and  officers  to  stay  in  while  on  their  tours  of  in- 
spection in  the  districts.  When  not  occupied  by  servants 
of  the  government,  the  meek  and  humble  Padre  Saheb  is 
as  a  rule  permitted  to  use  them.  Some  of  the  bungalows 
are  furnished  and  can  be  quite  comfortable;  -but  many  of 
them  consist  only  of  an  empty  room  or  two  with  rows  of 
large  and  small  bats  hanging  from  the  rafters. 

Apropos,  a  word  about  the  bats.  You  abhor  them  at 
first  when  you  see  their  little  beady  eyes  glare  at  you  by 
day,  and  at  night,  when  you  hear  the  flopping  of  their 
leathery  wings  close  to  yor.r  ear  you  do  have  sort  of  a 
creepy  feeling,  which  is  not  exactly  conducive  to  sleep. 
There  is  something  uncanny  and  disagreeable  about  a  bat. 
l>ut  little  by  little  you  get  used  to  them,  and  at  last  you  learn 
to  love  them.  If  you.  go  to  a  bungalow,  where  here  are  no 
bats,  you  miss  them.  They  are  your  friends.  If  a  mos- 
quito is  buzzing  cJbo'nt  your  unprotected  forehead  with 
evil  intentions,  one  of  your  little  friends  will  promptly  come 
to  your  rescue,  snatch  up  the  mosquito  and  eat  it.  That  is 
why  you  love  them.  At  dusk  you  enjoy  watching  the  erratic 
flight  of  the  little  ones  as  they  take  their  flying  lessons, 
and  by  the  v;ay  catch  a  few  moths  and  mosquitoes. 

If  there  is  no  Dak  bungalow  to  stay  in  and  no  out-sta- 
tion to  go  to,  there  is  yet  another  way  open  to  you  if  you 
want  to  get  into  camp.  You  can  bring  a  tent.  A  good  tent 
with  a  double  roof  can  be  quite  comfortable,  and  you  have 
the  advantage  that  you  can  be  near  the  villages  and  move 
about  easily  from  place  to  place.  There  are  usually  a  few 
spreading  mango  trees  near  the  village  under  which  you 
can  pitch  your  tent. 

After  the  first  clay  or  two  camping  is  not  so  exceedingly 
interesting,  but  it  is  a  means  to  a  good  end.  That  is  why 


134:        SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

you  keep  it  up.  And  when  you  speak  of  comforts,  you  do 
so  relatively.  There  are  degrees  of  comfort,  as  everyone 
knows. 

A  rich  American  lady,  very  much  interested  in  mis- 
sions and  a  liberal  giver  to  the  great  cause,  thought  she 
would  like  td  see  for  herself  what  a  missionary's  life  was 
like.  So  she  decided  to  come  out  to  India  for  a  few  months. 
On  the  advice  of  the  missionaries  she  came  out  during  the 
cold  season.  She  was  met  at  the  railway  station  and  taken 
out  to  the  nearest  mission  station  and  made  as  comfortable 
as  possible.  She  visited  around  for  some  time  and  every- 
body did  their  best  to  make  her  stay  as  enjoyable  as  pos- 
sible. When  a  lady  missionary  invited  her  to  come  out 
camping  with  her,  she  accepted  the  invitation  eagerly. 

The  servants,  the  tents  and  camp  outfit  was  sent  out 
ahead  and  the  ladies  followed  the  next  day.  There  were 
neither  roads  nor  vehicles,  so  they  were  carried  in  "dan- 
dies." At  dusk  they  arrived  at  the  camp  and  found  every- 
thing in  order.  They  had  only  time  for  at  little  look  around 
the  place  when  the  cook  announced  that  dinner  was  ready. 
The  table  was  set  under  a  mango  tree.  There  was  no 
room  for  it  in  the  tent.  A  lantern  was  suspended  from  a 
branch  above  the  table.  It  was  a  perfect  evening,  cool  and 
calm.  The  starry  sky  above,  the  mango  tree  with  its 
fireflies  and  the  silent  Indian  night  perfectly  fascinated  the 
visitor.  She  was  enraptured,  charmed  with  everything. 

"Why,"  she  exclaimed,  "everything  is  perfectly  heav- 
enly. How  you  missionaries  can  talk  of  sacrifices  and 
discomforts  I  cannot  understand." 

The  lady  missionary  smiled  and  kept  her  council.  For- 
tunately no  stinkbug  found  its  way  into  the  visitor's  soup 
and  no  jackals  howled  just  then.  Dinner  over  they  retired 
to  the  tent.  There  was  a  chair  and  a  cot  for  each  of  them. 


IN  CAMP.  135 

The  visitor  thought  everything  was  "just  charming/'  When 
they  retired  for  the  night  the  missionary  brought  in  a  stout 
stick  and  placed  it  beside  her  bed. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  stick?"  the  visitor 
asked. 

"O  it's  handy  to  have  to  kill  snakes  with  and  drive  out 
stray  village  dogs,  and  the  like,"  answered  the  missionary. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  dogs  and  snakes  can  come 
in  to  our  tent?"  the  visitor  again  anxiously  inquired.  The 
missionary  lady  then  proceeded  to  enlighten  her  by  relat- 
ing some  of  her  actual  experiences  with  jackals,  village 
clogs,  snakes  and  scorpions.  "Why,  it  was  only  the  other 
day  that  I  shook  a  large  scorpion  out  of  my  shoe  before 
putting  it  on  in  the  morning.  In  Tact  we  old  Indians  al- 
ways shake  our  shoes  before  putting  them  on.  It  gets  to 
be  a  habit  with  us." 

Nothing  awful,  however,  happened  that  night  except 
that  the  visitors  fine  silk  skirt  slid  off  the  chair  where  she 
had  put  it  and  laid  on  the  ground  completely  ruined  by 
white  ants.  Her  shoes  she  had  kept  beside  her  on  the  cot. 
The  next  day  was  a  busy  one  in  camp.  Sick  people  were 
brought  and  had  to  be  helped.  There  were  schools  to  be 
examined  and  meetings  to  be  held.  And  besides  that  one 
of  the  servants  while  gathering  firewood  had  been  stung 
by  a  scorpion.  He  was  in  agonies  the  most  of  the  day. 

Again  they  had  a  lovely  dinner  under  the  mango  trees, 
but  it  was  not  quite  as  charming  as  the  previous.  That 
night  the  visitor  kept  all  her  belongings  with  her  on  the 
cot.  They  had  only  but  retired  when  the  visitor  screamed 
for  help.  "I  am  stung.  It's  my  ankle!  It's  a  scorpion! 
Help  quick,  auh !" 

The  missionary  told  her  to  lie  perfectly  still  and  she 
got  the  lantern  which  was  left  burning  in  the  room,  turned 


136 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


tip  the  covering  at  the  place  where  the  wounded  ankle  was 
supposed  to  be.  After  a  diligent  search  she  found,  not  a 
dreadful  scorpion,  but  a  sharp  toothpick  which  in  some  way 
had  dropped  into  the  bed. 

Peace  was  again  restored  and  the  tired  missionary  was 
on  the  point  dropping  off  to  sleep  when  she  heard  a  small 


IN  THE  THRESHING  PLACE. 

voice  calling  her  by  name  and  inquiring  if  she  was  asleep. 
On  being  assured  that  she  was  awake  the  visitor  said :  "Did 
you  hear  me  say  last  night  that  I  thought  missionaries  ought 
not  to  talk  about  sacrifices,  hardships  and  discomforts? 
Well,  may  the  Lord  forgive  me.  Goodnight !" 

A  few  days  or  weeks  of  camp  life  will  develope  your 
taste  for  it,  and  if  there  are  any  discomforts  or  hardships 


IN  CAMP. 


137 


you  learn  to  take  them  as  part  of  your  days  work.  To- 
gether with  your  Christian  workers  you  go  out  from  your 
temporary  home  every  morning  to  preach  the  gospel  in  the 
adjoining  villages.  The  field  is  often  one  seldom  visited 
by  the  preachers  and  there  are  no  Christians  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 


THRESHING  RICE. 


Early  in  the  morning  you  go  to  the  threshing  places 
just  outside  the  village.  There  is  where  you  will  find  the 
people.  Usually  several  threshing  places  lie  close  together, 
and  often  you  can  get  a  score  of  men  who  will  sit  for  hours 
on  the  sunny  side  of  a  pile  of  straw  and  listen  to  the 
message  of  salvation. 


138 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALIPTAN. 


The  people  are  strangers  to  your  Christian  workers  as 
well  as  to  yourself  and  you  must  approach  them  carefully 
and  tactfully  if  your  visit  is  to  do  any  good.  It  is  best  for 
you  at  first  to  keep  in  the  background  and  like  good 
children  be  seen  rather  than  heard.  You  leave  it  to  your 
preachers  to  establish  proper  relations.  After  a  few  com- 


THRESHING   RICE. 

monplace  remarks  about  the  crops  or  the  weather  one  of 
the  preachers  will  say:  ''Den  thamakur!"  which  means, 
"Give  us  some  tobacco." 

You  may  happen  to  know  that  the  man  who  begged  for 
tobacco  has  a  good  supply  of  that  weed  tied  up  in  his  cloth, 
but  that  does  not  prevent  him  from  begging.  Tobacco  is 
used  as  a  means  of  establishing  polite  and  friendly  rela- 


IN  CAMP. 


139 


tions  between  the  Santals.  If  a  man  is  unwilling  to  share 
his  tobacco,  there  is  very  little  use  in  trying  to  talk  to  him. 
Usually  a  dry  tobacco  leaf  is  forthcomming.  The  preacher 
takes  it  and  gives  it  over  to  some  young  man  in  the  gather- 
ing and  asks  him  to  prepare  it.  Squatting  on  the  ground 
he  will  then  proceed  to  rub  the  tobacco  leaf  to  powder  in 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  GRAIN. 

the  palm  of  his  hand.  He  will  then  ask  for  "chun"  or 
slacked  lime.  From  the  waistband  of  someone  a  folded 
leaf  will  be  extracted  and  handed  to  the  tobacco  maker. 
In  this  leaf  there  is  powdered  lime  burnt  from  clam  shells. 
A  little  of  the  lime  is  sprinkled  on  the  powdered  tobacco 
and  mixed  well  with  it.  When  all  is  ready  the  tobacco 
maker  will  rise  and  if  he  is  a  devout  worshipper  of  the 


140  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

"Bongas"  he  will  scatter  a  little  pinch  on  the  ground  as  an 
offering  to  them,  and  then  he  will  go  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  party  putting  a  little  pinch  of  the  powder  into  the 
right  palm  of  each  who  wishes  to  partake.  By  a  dexterous 
movement  of  the  hand  the  men  will  manage  to  transfer  the 
tobacco  from  the  palm  to  their  mouth  without  spilling  a 
single  grain  and  without  the  hand  touching  the  lips. 

Fortunately  etiquette  does  not  demand  that  the  mis- 
sionary should  partake  of  the  preparation.  It  would  be 
rather  hard  on  him  if  it  did. 

The  tobacco  has  now  broken  the  spell,  coldness  and  re- 
serve have  melted  away,  tongues  are  loosened,  ears  and 
sometimes  hearts  are  opened  for  the  message  of  peace. 
You  are  permitted  to  sow  the  seed.  Sometime,  perhaps 
after  many  days,  there  will  be  a  harvest. 


AMONG    THE    BRETHREN. 


The  tent  is  pitched  under  some  spreading  matkom  trees 
just  outside  the  village.  The  hot,  steamy  and  sultry  days, 
which  follow  the  rainy  season,  are  over,  and  the  air  is  de- 
lightful. It  is  autumn  in  Santalistan,  and  the  sound  of  the 
sickle  is  heard  in  the  rice-field. 

There  is  a  chair  at  the  tent  door,  where  you  can  sit  and 
watch  and  listen.  The  shadow's  are  growing  long  and  the 
day  is  preparing  its  departure.  With  heavy  sheaves  on 
their  heads,  the  women  are  returning  from  the  rice  fields. 
In  spite  of  their  heavy  burdens  they  laugh  and  talk.  The 
joy  of  the  harvest  is  in  their  hearts.  Another  picture  flash- 
es across  your  mind : — the  last  great  harvest  and  the  songs 
of  rejoicing  of  those,  who  are  then  able  to  bring  in  sheaves. 

The  shepherd  boys  are  bringing  the  cattle,  goats  and 
sheep  home  toward  the  village.  Slowly  they  amble  along 
as  if  keeping  time  to  the  music  of  the  bamboo  flutes  which 
the  boys  are  playing.  The  mellow  flute-notes  quiver  in  the 
calm  evening  air.  Long,  trembling  notes  they  are  with  an 
undercurrent  of  longing  and  sadness  and  hopelessness. 
Especially  hopelessness,  the  sad  hopelessness  of  one  who 


142 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


has  been  oppressed  and  almost  crushed,  and  only  retaining 
the  half  faded  memories  of  that  which  was  and  can  never 
be  again. 

You  listen  and  listen  until  you  seem  to  enter  into  the 
spirit  of  that  music  and  you  think  you  understand  it.  That 
burden  of  sadness,  which  is  borne  to  you  on  those  trembling, 


BRINGING  IN  THE  SHEAVES. 

minor  flute-notes,  is  it  not  the  essence  of  the  life  experience 
of  the  Santal  people?  Their  history  is  that  of  an  oppressed 
race,  whose  pride  has  never  been  entirely  crushed.  But 
repeated  flights  from  oppressors,  leaving  ruined  homes  be- 
hind, to  begin  again  life's  struggle  in  other  places  must 
have  spread  a  pall  of  hopelessness  over  them  like  the  black 
smoke  rising  from  their  funeral  pyres. 


AMONG  THE  BRETHREN.  143 

As  a  people  they  have  been  homeless,  drifting  from 
place  to  place,  and  they  have  been  stunted  like  a  tree  often 
transplanted.  There  was  nothing,  which  bound  them  to  the 
soil  they  tilled  and  to  the  forests  they  hunted.  Their  dear 
ones  died  and  were  carried  out  to  the  burning  ghat.  From 
among  the  ashes  of  the  funeral  pyre  a  few  charred  bones 
were  collected,  not  to  be  stored  in  sacred  urns  in  their 
sanctuaries,  but  to  be  thrown  into  the  Damukdia  river.  On 
the  banks  of  this,  their  sacred  stream,  they  were  left  stand- 
ing alone  with  their  burden  of  sorrow;  the  river  carried 
away  from  their  sight  the  last  tangible  vestige  of  connec- 
tion between  the  living  and  the  dead.  The  last  sad  duty  to 
the  departed  one  was  performed.  They  looked  into  the  mists 
of  the  broad  river,  but  there  was  no  joyful  vision  there, 
no  hand  outstretched  to  take  away  the  burden  of  sorrow. 

This  is  the  feeling  they  have  tried  to  express  in  their 
simple  music.  There  may  be  thrills  in  those  melodies 
which  aim  at  gayety,  but  it  is  only  for  a  moment,  always, 
always  the  strains  of  sadness  will  return. 

You  can  but  think  how  different  everything  would  have 
been  if  there  had  been  a  memory  to  cherish,  a  grave  to 
keep  green,  or  a  sacred  spot  to  defend. 

You  awake  from  your  reverie  to  find  that  it  is  growing 
dusk.  The  weird  music  has  ceased  and  the  last  stragglers 
of  the  herd  have  been  brought  in  for  the  night.  Rest  and 
peace  take  the  place  of  the  busy  hustle  of  the  day.  But  for 
a  lonely  pigeon  cooing  from  the  copse  the  stillness  is  almost 
oppressive. 

Out  of  the  dusk,  white-clad  figures  begin  to  appear.  It 
is  time  for  evening  prayers.  Slowly  and  in  single  file  they 
come  and  squat  on  the  greensward  in  front  of  the  tent, 
men  on  one  side  and  women  on  the  other.  It  is  a  Christian 
village  and  the  assembly  for  evening  prayers  is  a  large  one. 


144  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

Heartily  they  join  in  the  singing  of  a  hymn.  The  great 
majority  of  them  are  illiterate,  but  they  have  learned  most 
of  the  hymns  by  heart,  and  with  a  strong  voice  to  lead  them 
they  find  no  difficulty  in  following  the  words  of  the  hymns. 
A  portion  of  scripture  is  read  and  the  old  but  ever  new 
story  of  Jesus  and  his  love  is  told  again.  The  eye  of  faith 
is  directed  to  look  beyond  these  trancient  and  temporal 
things  to  those,  which  are  real,  everlasting  and  unchange- 
able, the  love  of  God. 

After  prayers,  ending  with  all  repeating  the  Lord's  pray- 
er in  unison,  they  say  good-night.  The  women  depart  to 
prepare  the  evening  meal,  but  the  men  linger.  They  say 
good-night  but  are  in  no  hurry  to  depart. 

Someone  prepares  tobacco,  and  with  that  for  an  excuse 
the  men  again  sit  down  and  draw  their  thin  cotton  sheets 
well  up  about  their  shoulders  for  the  night  air  is  cool. 
Little  by  little  conversation  becomes  general.  At  first  it 
is  "small  talk"  about  crops,  cattle  and  the  like,  but  finally 
it  drifts  into  serious  channels.  Trouble  and  ill  feeling  be- 
tween brethern  is  brought  to  light  and  discussed.  Opinions 
for  and  against,  are  freely  expressed.  It  is  dark,  no  man's 
face  can  be  seen  distinctly,  and  that  very  fact  seems  to  give 
them  courage  to  express  what  is  in  their  hearts. 

Before  long  men  are  asking  each  other's  forgiveness. 
Old  troubles  are  settled.  It  is  nearly  midnight  when  some- 
one suggests  that  we  again  surround  the  mercy-seat  to  offer 
thanks  to  Him,  who  is  the  author  of  love. 

As  you  kneel  that  night  beside  your  cot  in  your  lonely 
tent,  you  feel  mean  and  humbled  because  you  so  often  have 
grumbled  and  complained  as  if  the  work  was  in  vain  and 
the  days  wasted.  Now  that  you  have  seen  the  work  of  His 
spirit,  you  feel  that  you  ought  with  all  your  heart  to  praise 
Him  for  calling  you  to  be  His  witness  among  these  grown- 


AMONG  THE  BRETHREN. 


145 


up  children.  As  you  confess  your  sins  and  try  to  claim 
His  promises,  and  look  up  into  His  face,  so  full  of  love  and 
tenderness,  you  can  but  say :  "Had  I  a  thousand  lives  to 
live,  I  should  place  them  all  on  Thy  altar  to  be  dedicated 
to  Thy  service  among  these  people." 


THE  HOUSE-BUILDERS, 


IN    DULU'S   COURT-YARD. 


Dulu  was  for  a  long  time  the  only  Christian  in  the  vil- 
lage and  has  been  the  object  of  considerable  persecution. 
Not  that  anyone  did  him  bodily  harm,  for  there  are  other 
ways  of  persecution.  His  heathen  neighbors  slighted  him 
in  every  possible  way,  they  could  think  of,  and  heaped  all 
sorts  of  ridicule  on  him  whenever  they  had  an  opportunity. 
But  Dulu  was  not  discouraged,  neither  did  he  become  sour 
or  bitter.  He  just  smiled  through  it  all.  His  life  was  a 
daily  testimony  for  Christ  among  his  benighted  neighbors. 
And  his  testimony  was  not  in  vain,  the  tide  turned  and  now 
about  half  of  the  villagers  are  Christians. 

One  day — it  was  before  the  tide  had  turned — we  were 
having  a  meeting  in  a  threshing  place  near  Dulu's  house, 
and  after  having  tried  to  make  the  way  of  salvation  as 
clear  as  possible,  we  called  on  those  present  to  express 
their  opinion.  A  young  Santal  stretched  himself,  yawned 
and  said:  "What  do  you  gain  by  becoming  a  Christian? 
I  can't  see  that  it  is  any  easier  for  you  people  to  support 
yourselves  that  it  is  for  us.  We  have  to  work  for  our  liv- 
ing whether  we  are  Christians  or  heathen." 

146 


IN  DULU'S  COURT  YARD.  147 

To  this  question  Dulu  in  his  quiet  way  replied :  "You 
all  know  that  I  came  to  this  village  together  with  my  fa- 
ther when  I  was  a  boy  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age.  My 
mother  and  sister  had  died  in  the  famine  and  father  and  I 
came  here  in  quest  of  work.  A  short  time  afterwards  we 
became  Christians.  \Ye  were  then  as  poor  as  we  could  be. 
All  my  earthly  possessions  was  a  stick.  And  today,  though 
I  am  far  from  rich,  yet  my  children  need  not  go  hungry 
and  naked.  Had  I  remained  a  heathen  I  should  have  been 
worse  off  than  any  of  you.  I  do  not  work  harder  than 
the  rest  of  you,  neither  do  my  fields  yield  more  than  yours. 
How  is  it  that  I  have  food  and  many  of  you  have  none? 
My  friend,  it  is  God's  blessing  and  nothing  else." 

There  was  nothing  to  reply.  Everyone  knew  that  what 
Dulu  said  was  true,  and  the  man  with  the  materialistic  ob- 
jection could  only  hang  his  head. 

Dulu  can  not  give  long  discourses  on  Christianity,  nor 
preach,  nor  exhort,  but  he  tries  to  live  Christ,  and  after  all 
that  is  what  counts.  That  so  many  of  his  fellow  villagers 
have  turned  to  Christ  is  more  due  to  the  testimony  of 
Dulu's  life  than  to  the  preaching  of  the  Christian  workers. 

One  morning  four  preachers  happened  to  meet  in  the 
village  and  after  visiting  the  Christians  we  agreed  to  go  to 
Dulu's  house  for  a  little  rest  and  a  drink  of  water.  Dulu 
has  four  houses  built  in  such  a  way  that  there  is  an  open 
square  or  courtyard  in  the  center.  The  house  nearest  to 
the  street  is  the  cowhouse.  One  end  of  this  has  been  par- 
titioned to  the  courtyard.  The  heavy  door  studded  with 
iron  and  brass  nails  gave  evidence  of  prosperity.  Not 
many  people  in  the  village  could  afford  such  a  door.  As 
we  entered,  Dulu's  wife  at  once  brought  out  a  couple  of 
string  beds  for  the  preachers  to  sit  on,  and  a  small  stool  for 
the  Saheb.  Then  she  went  and  got  a  few  brass  vessels,  filled 


148  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

them  with  water  and  put  one  on  the  ground  before  each 
of  us,  whereupon  she  made  obeisance  before  each  one  in 
turn.  Each  one  of  the  preachers  received  the  kind  of  greet- 
ing his  relationship  to  her  entitled  him  to. 

In  the  meantime  Dulu  appeared.  He  had  been  repair- 
ing a  wall  but  climbed  down,  washed  his  hands  and  feet 
and  came  forward  to  greet  us.  After  tobacco  had  been 
made  and  distributed,  and  the  usual  talk  about  health  and 
crops  got  over  with,  Dulu  remarked :  "The  Lord  has  been 
very  good  to  us.  We  had  a  wonderful  experience  last 
night."  He  then  told  us  the  following  story. 

Dulu  and  his  family  had  retired  as  usual  the  evening 
before.  The  children  slept  on  a  mat  on  the  floor  of  the 
same  room  as  their  father  and  mother.  In  the  corner  of 
the  room  a  number  of  chickens  also  spent  the  night  huddled 
together.  Chickens  have  free  run  of  the  bedrooms  of  the 
Santals  and  they  never  sit  on  a  perch  but  huddle  in  a  cor- 
ner and  early  in  the  morning  they  rouse  the  family.  The 
only  alarm  clock  the  Santal  has  is  a  cock. 

During  the  night  Dulu  was  awakened  by  the  cackling 
of  the  chickens.  He  lit  his  lamp  to  see  what  was  the  matter 
an  found  two  hens  flopping  around  on  the  floor  dying.  The 
rest  of  the  chickens  were  running  about  hiding  here  and 
there.  At  once  he  understood  that  a  cobra  had  paid  him 
a  visit. 

Dulu  got  his  stick  and  began  to  search  for  the  snake. 
All  through  the  room  he  searched  but  could  not  find  it. 
He  roused  his  wife  and  children  and  they  all  joined  in 
the  search,  but  all  in  vain.  They  were  all  very  much  fright- 
ened. How  could  they  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep  again 
knowing  that  the  cobra  might  be  hiding  in  the  room?  Dulu 
then  set  the  lamp  on  the  floor  and  asked  his  wife  and  child- 


IN  DULU'S  COURT- YARD. 


149 


ren  to  kneel  with  him  and  pray  that  the  Lord  might  show 
them  where  the  snake  was  hidden. 

\Yhen  the  prayer  was  ended  Dulu  looked  up  and  there 
on  the  threshhold  he  saw  the  head  of  the  cobra.  It  was  re- 
turning- to  the  room.  A  moment  more  and  Dulu's  stick  de- 


IN  THE  SHADE  OF  THE  MATKOM  TREE. 

cended  on  its  head  and  the  danger  was  over.  Again  the 
family  knelt  on  the  floor,  this  time  in  thanksgiving  for  the 
wonderful  deliverance. 

''The  Lord  saw  how  frightened  we  were,"  said  Dulu, 
"and  He  just  sent  that  cobra  back  so  I  could  kill  it  and  we 
could  all  lie  down  again  and  rest  safely  until  morning." 


OUT   OF   THE    DARKNESS. 


Life  everywhere  has  its  ups  and  downs,  its  joys  and 
sorrows,  its  days  of  sunshine  and  its  days  of  darkness  and 
gloom.  The  life  of  a  missionary  is  no  exception  to  this 
rule.  There  are  days  of  disappointments,  dark  and  gloomy 
days  when  dreams  of  victory  vanish  and  it  seems  as  if  the 
enemy  is  gaining  ground  all  along  the  fighting  line. 

At  the  time  referred  to  in  this  sketch  we  had  just  passed 
through  such  an  experience.  Christians  had  fallen  and 
would  not  let  themselves  be  raised  up  again.  Inquirers  had 
come  forward,  but  none  of  them  seemed  to  get  courage  to 
take  the  step  and  confess  their  faith  in  Christ.  Among 
our  inquirers  at  this  time,  and  of  whom  we  entertained 
hope,  was  a  Hindu  belonging  to  one  of  the  lower  castes. 
He  had  shown  great  interest  in  the  truth  taught  him,  and 
had  repeatedly  expressed  a  desire  to  become  a  Christian. 
But  when  he  was  asked  to  take  his  stand  for  Christ  and 
confess  Him  openly,  he  withdrew  and  for  a  couple  of 
months  we  could  not  get  near  him.  Our  opportunity  to  talk 
to  him  was  cut  off,  but  not  the  opportunity  to  pray  for  him. 

150 


OUT  OF  THE  DARKNESS. 


151 


Daily  this  Hindu  and  his  family  were  carried  to  the  throne 
of  grace  by  the  little  band  of  workers. 

Suddenly  one  early  morning  in  a  pouring  rain  Puchu, 
for  that  was  his  name,  came  to  the  mission,  sought  out  one 
of  the  workers  and  asked  to  be  taken  to  the  missionary. 
Something  had  happened  to  him,  he  said 


AN  OLD  CHRISTIAN. 

He  began  to  explain  that  the  reason  why  he  had  come 
now  was  that  he  wished  to  become  a  Christian  and  wanted 
to  be  baptized  right  away.  On  inquiring  what  had  brought 
about  this  sudden  change  in  him  who  only  a  short  time  be- 
fore had  declared  that  he  would  not  break  with  his  caste 
and  become  a  follower  of  Christ,  he  told  the  following  story. 

After  being  convinced  in  his  heart  that  Christianity  was 


152  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

right,  his  earnest  desire  was  to  become  a  Christian.  He 
spoke  of  this  to  some  of  his  friends,  but  they  frightened  him 
and  told  him  that  if  he  became  a  Christian  he  would  be 
outcasted,  no  one  would  help  him  when  sick  or  in  want, 
and  when  he  died,  no  one  would  take  his  body  out  to  the 
burning  ghat,  but  it  would  be  left  to  rot  in  the  house.  They 
also  threatened  him  with  bodily  violence  if  he  broke  caste. 
.  For  these  reasons  he  gave  up  the  idea  of  becoming  a  Christ- 
ian and  kept  out  of  the  way  of  the  preachers.  When  they 
came  to  his  village  he  would  hide  somewhere  rather  than 
meet  them. 

The  previous  evening  he  had  retired  as  usual  and  fell 
asleep.  About  midnight  he  awoke  with  the  strange  sensa- 
tion that  someone  was  in  the  room.  He  looked  up,  and 
there  beside  his  bed  stood  a  tall  figure.  At  first  it  was 
indistinct  and  then  gradually  it  became  clearer  until  every 
detail  of  its  form  and  face  stood  out  very  clearly.  From 
the  left  arm  of  this  strange  visitor  hung  a  long  white  robe, 
and  although  nothing  was  said  Puchu  understood  that  the 
robe  was  intended  for  him.  A  long  time  the  visitor  stood 
beside  the  bed.  At  last  Puchu  asked  him :  "Are  you  not 
going  to  give  me  that  robe  ?"  To  this  the  visitor  made  no 
reply,  but  as  Puchu  looked  up  into  his  face  he  saw  that  he 
,was  weeping.  A  moment  more  and  the  strange  visitor 
was  gone. 

Puchu  could  not  sleep  any  more,  but  lay  thinking  about 
what  this  strange  vision  meant.  And  the  more  he  thought, 
the  clearer  it  seemed  to  him,  that  the  white  robe  was  the 
salvation,  which  he  had  refused  to  accept  for  fear  of  his 
caste  fellows.  God  wished  to  give  it  to  him,  but  he  had 
refused  it,  and  the  messenger  had  wept  because  he  had  to 
take  the  robe  away  again.  The  thought  also  occurred  to 


OUT  OF  THE  DARKNESS.  153 

him  that  it  was  now  too  late  to  seek  salvation,  and  that  he 
was  to  die  soon.  What  should  he  do? 

At  daybreak  he  got  up,  picked  up  his  stick  and  his  um- 
brella, and  without  saying  a  word  to  his  wife  came  to  the 
mission  and  wanted  to  be  baptized  at  once. 

We  told  him  that  both  he  and  his  family  ought  to  be 
further  instructed,  and  when  prepared  they  would  all  re- 
ceive baptism  at  the  same  time.  But  he  would  not  be  re- 
fused. He  wanted  to  be  baptized  today,  right  away.  He 
was  convinced,  that  if  he  did  not  get  baptized  that  very  day 
he  would  die. 

We  saw  that  the  man  was  deeply  stirred  and  that  it 
would  perhaps  not  be  well  to  postpone  his  baptism ;  so  we 
sent  him  to  bring  his  family.  One  of  the  Christian  work- 
ers accompanied  him.  They  returned  with  four  of  the 
children,  his  wife  and  eldest  daughter  were  not  as  yet  ready 
to  follow  him.  Together  with  his  children  Puchu  received 
baptism  the  same  day.  It  was  a  day  of  rejoicing  for  us  all, 
but  especially  for  Puchu.  His  wife  and  daughter  were 
instructed,  and  a  month  later  we  were  able  to  welcome  them 
also  to  the  church.  Years  have  passed  since  then,  but  we 
have  never  yet  had  reason  to  regret  that  we  received  Puchu 
as  a  candidate  for  baptism  with  but  little  previous  instruc- 
tion. 

A  short  time  after  Puchu's  conversion  another  soul  was 
brought  from  out  of  the  darkness  in  a  similar  way.  She 
was  an  old  blind  woman  over  sixty  years  of  age.  Her 
daughter  was  the  wife  of  one  of  our  Christian  workers  and 
a  warm-hearted  woman.  One  day  she  came  to  the  mission 
with  a  very  sad  and  heavy  heart.  She  had  just  returned 
from  a  visit  to  her  old  mother.  After  having  told  about 
her  visit  she  burst  into  tears  and  said :  "Every  day  for 
fifteen  years  I  have  been  praying  for  my  mother's  conver- 


154  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

sion,  but  she  seems  farther  away  from  God  today  than 
ever  before.  Today  she  scolded  me  and  told  me  never  to 
speak  to  her  again  about  her  soul.  It  seems  as  if  the  Lord 
will  not  hear  my  prayers,  what  shall  I  do?" 

Looking  at  it  from  a  human  standpoint  the  hope  for  the 
old  woman's  conversion  was  not  very  bright.  She  was  an 
exceptionally  hard  old  heathen,  well  versed  in  all  "Bonga" 
matters,  and  experience  has  taught  us  that  such  people 
seldom  change,  especially  at  her  time  of  life.  But  we  are 
not  supposed  to  look  at  such  cases  from  our  standpoint, 
but  from  His,  who  is  able  to  bring  even  those  in  the  dark- 
ness of  death  back  to  life  and  light.  God's  promises  were 
held  up  before  the  brokenhearted  woman  and  she  went  away 
to  keep  on  praying  and  trusting  in  God,  that  He  would  find 
some  way  of  touching  her  old  mother's  hard  heart. 

Two  weeks  after  this  event  the  old  blind  woman  sud- 
denly appeared  at  the  door  of  her  daughter's  house.  This 
had  never  happened  before.  Imagine  the  daughter's  sur- 
prise at  seeing  her  old  mother  at  the  door !  A  little  girl 
from  the  village  had  led  her  to  the  house.  On  arriving  she 
dropped  the  little  girl's  hand  and  told  her  that  she  might 
return.  The  daughter  wondered  what  this  meant,  but  asked 
no  questions,  and  set  about  making  her  mother  comfortable. 

At  last  the  mother  said :  "Daughter,  I  have  come  to 
you  to  stay  with  you  and  to  be  wdiat  you  are." 

The  previous  night  the  old  woman  had  dreamt  that  she 
was  dying  and  that  she  passed  on  to  the  next  world  in 
company  with  her  three  children,  two  sons  and  the  daughter 
referred  to,  who  were  all  Christians.  They  walked  up  a 


OUT  OF  THE  DARKNESS.  155 

lane  lined  with  beautiful  palms  and  flowering  trees.  At 
last  they  arrived  at  a  broad  gate,  through  which  she  got 
glimpses  of  a  beautiful  garden  and  people  walking  about. 
Her  children  were  all  in  front  of  her  as  they  entered.  Then 
suddenly,  a  tall  dark  man  with  a  long  bamboo  stick  in  his 
hand  steped  in  front  of  her  and  stopped  her.  She  asked 
him,  "Why  do  you  stop  me?"  "You  do  not  belong  here," 
he  replied.  "But  my  children,  why  do  you  part  me  from 
them,  I  will  go  where  they  go,"  she  said,  but  the  man  told 
her  that  her  children  belonged  there  and  that  she  must  go 
away.  Her  children  went  on  and  joined  the  people  within 
the  gates  and  were  lost  to  her  sight,  and  she  was  turned 
back. 

The  dream  was  so  vivid  and  real  to  her,  that  as  she 
awoke,  she  sat  up  in  bed  and  cried  at  the  thought  of  being 
parted  forever  from  her  children.  Her  hard  heart  was 
melted,  and  she  resolved  then  and  there  to  break  away  from 
her  heathen  friends  and  the  "Conga"  worship  and  become 
a  Christian. 

Together  with  a  class  of  about  twenty  souls  she  was 
baptized  on  a  Sunday  morning.  She  not  only  answered 
the  usual  questions  put  to  the  candidates,  but  she  interrupt- 
ed the  solemn  proceedings  by  making  quite  a  long  speech 
to  the  congregation,  setting  forth  the  reasons  for  the  step 
she  was  about  to  take  and  deploring  the  fact  that  she  had 
waited  so  long  before  she  accepted  the  invitation  to  come  to 
her  Saviour. 

For  half  a  year  she  lived  with  her  daughter,  and  she 
used  her  time  well.  If  she  was  unable  to  get  someone  to 


156 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


take  her  about  to  her  old  friends  and  relatives  in  the  vil- 
lages, she  would  send  for  them  and  entreat  them  earnestly 
to  leave  thir  "Bongas"  and  come  to  Christ.  When  at  last 
she  was  taken  sick  with  dysentery,  she  told  everyone  that 
she  was  going  to  leave  them.  She  knew  she  was  going 
home.  She  died  peacefully  rejoicing  in  her  Saviour.  When 
no  longer  able  to  speak,  she  lifted  her  hand  and  pointed 
upwards. 

From  out  of  the  darkness  the  Lord  had  led  her  into  his 
own  marvelous  light. 


BRINGING  FIBRE  GRASS  TO  MARKET. 


GLIMPSES   BEYOND   THE   VEIL. 


Pandu  was  one  of  our  Christian  workers.  He  was  not 
conspicuous  for  his  brilliancy  either  as  a  preacher  or  as  a 
catechist,  but  in  his  humble,  quiet  way,  he  bore  witness  for 
his  master  of  the  hope  that  was  in  him.  Perhaps  he  was 
best  known  as  the  husband  of  Solma,  the  leading  bible 
woman  in  this  part  of  the  mission  field. 

One  clay  in  the  beginning  of  the  rainy  season,  Pandu 
very  suddenly  passed  away.  His  case  looked  like  cholera, 
but  there  was  no  struggle,  the  end  came  quietly,  and  his 
last  hours  were  full  of  joy  and  peace. 

His  wife  told  us  that  during  the  last  month  before  he 
died  he  would  often  drop  hints  to  the  effect  that  his  end 
was  near.  During  the  week  before  he  died  he  spent  his 
spare  moments  in  making  a  new  bed.  One  evening 
while  watching  him  at  his  work,  his  wife  made  the  remark 
that  she  thought  that  this  bed  would  not  be  as  pretty  as 
some  of  the  others  he  had  made,  for  Pandu  was  rather 
clever  with  his  hands  and  could  make  nice  things.  On  hear- 
ing this  remark  he  stopped  working  ,  turned  to  his  wife  and 
said  in  a  quiet  way:  ''I  havn't  the  time  to  make  this  one 

157 


158  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

pretty,  as  I  shall  need  it  very  soon,  for  on  this  bed  I  shall 
sleep  my  last  sleep." 

His  words  came  true ;  four  days  later  he  was  carried 
to  his  last  resting  place  on  that  very  bed. 

Bhima  was  a  pupil  in  our  boy's  boarding  school ;  he  was 
about  fifteen  years  of  age  when  he  died.  He  was  the  son 
of  one  of  our  preachers  and  brought  up  in  a  Christian 
home.  From  early  childhood  he  had  been  taught  how  to 
pray  and  what  it  means  to  live  a  Christian  life.  At  the  age 
of  eight  he  came  to  the  boarding  school.  Although  he  did 
not  distinguish  himself  as  a  scholar,  yet  with  his  true  Chris- 
tian character  he  won  the  love  and  esteem  of  both  teachers 
and  fellow-pupils.  It  is  told  of  him,  that  when  asked  by  an 
older  boy  to  get  some  peppers  from  the  garden  of  one  of 
the  teachers,  who  happened  to  be  away  from  home  that 
day,  that  young  Bhima  looked  at  the  tempter  and  replied, 
"Do  you  think  I  will  sell  my  soul  to  Satan  for  a  pepper?" 

About  a  month  before  Bhima  died  he  called  his  special 
friend  or  chum  aside  and  told  him,  that  he  soon  would 
have  to  leave  this  world.  "It  will  come  about  in  this  way," 
he  said,  "first  I  will  get  a  headache  and  then  two  days  af- 
terwards I  shall  die.  But  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  as 
long  as  I  am  alive,  you  do  not  tell  anyone  what  I  have  told 
you  now.  If  my  mother  should  find  out  that  I  am  to  die, 
she  would  feel  very  bad,  so  don't  tell  anyone." 

Bhimas  words  came  true.  He  took  to  bed  one  day  with 
a  severe  headache.  His  chum  was  at  his  bedside  and  wept, 
for  he  knew  what  this  sickness  meant.  "O  Bhima,  why 
are  you  going  to  leave  me-"  cried  his  chum.  Bhima  re- 
plied :  "I  am  going  on  before  you  a  little  while.  In  three 
months  you  will  join  me  and  we  shall  be  together  forever." 

Two  days  afterwards  Bhima  passed  away  trusting  in 
his  Saviour. 


GLIMPSES  BEYOND  THE  VEIL. 


159 


When  Bhima's  chum  saw,  that  everything  his  friend  had 
said  about  himself,  came  true,  he  became  frightened  and 
ran  away  from  school.  But  like  Noah's  dove  finding  no 
place  to  rest,  lie  returned,  sought  out  Bhima's  mother  and 
told  her  everything.  He  was  taken  back  into  school  again 
and  three  months  later,  precisely  as  Bhima  had  foretold, 


WOOD  SELLER. 


is  no 


he  passed  away  to  be  with  his  friend,  where  there 
more  parting. 

Among  a  class  of  catechumens  that  were  baptized  in 
the  Sohor  district  there  was  a  nine  year  old  boy  by  the 
name  of  Ram.  For  some  time  he  had  been  suffering  from 
fever  and  enlargement  of  the  spleen  and  was  quite  emacia- 


160  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

ted.  He  was  therefore  not  able  to  go  to  the  pond  to  be 
baptized  publicly  like  the  rest  of  the  class,  but  received  the 
holy  rite  in  his  room,  lying  on  his  bed. 

One  day  about  a  month  after  his  baptism  Ram  was 
walking  about  feeling  much  better.  His  mother  said, 
"You  will  soon  be  quite  well  again."  To  this  He  replied, 
"Yes,  mother,  I  shall  be  better  soon  for  I  am  going  away 
tonight."  His  mother,  thinking  he  intended  to  go  to  some 
of  his  friends,  remarked,  that  she  thought  he  had  better 
wait  a  few  days  until  he  got  stronger. 

Across  the  street  from  Ram's  home,  Lutu,  the  Chrisian 
worker,  who  had  been  his  instructor,  lived.  In  Lutu's 
house  all  the  Christians  in  the  village  used  to  gather  for 
evening  prayers.  Quite  early  in  the  afternoon  the  boy  be- 
gan to  ask  for  Lutu,  saying,  that  he  wanted  him  to  gather 
the  people  for  evening  prayers.  His  mother  told  him  that 
Lutu  was  out  in  the  villages  preaching,  and  would  not  re- 
turn before  dusk,  and  besides  it  was  not  yet  time  for  eve- 
ning prayers.  But  the  boy  would  not  be  quieted,  he  wanted 
to  have  evening  prayers  right  away.  He  went  to  the  hous- 
es of  all  the  Christians  in  the  village  and  asked  as  many  as 
he  could  find  to  come  with  him  to  evening  prayers,  as  he 
called  it.  Nearly  all  the  people  were  at  their  work  in  the 
fields,  only  children  were  at  home,  but  these  he  gathered 
in  the  usual  place  and  had  prayers  with  them. 

After  prayers  in  which  he  had  committed  both  himself 
and  his  playmates  into  the  loving  care  of  his  Saviour,  he 
told  them  plainly  that  he  was  to  leave  them.  Several  of  the 
children  went  home  weeping. 

Lutu  returned  from  his  work  a  little  earlier  than  usual. 
The  children  told  him  what  had  happened,  and  he  went  to 
the  sick  boy  and  found  him  lying  on  his  bed,  but  very 


GLIMPSES  BEYOND  THE  VEIL.  161 

cheerful  and  contented.     Lutu  said :     "What  is  it  I  hear 
about  you?    You  are  surely  not  going  to  leave  us." 
''Yes,  uncle,  tonight  I  am  going,"  was  Ram's  reply. 
"Why  should  you  leave  us  now"  said  Lutu,  "you  have 
been  getting  much  better  of  late  and  the  Lord  will  surely 
make  you  quite  well  again  and  you  will  live  to  serve  Him 
for  many  years." 

But  the  boy  repeated  that  he  was  going,  and  that  he 
was  only  waiting  for  the  messengers  to  come  for  him. 

Lutu  then  sat  down  on  the  bed  beside  the  boy  and  talk- 
ed to  him  about  Jesus  and  his  heavenly  home,  and  when 
the  time  came  for  the  people  to  gather  for  evening  pray- 
ers Ram  folded  his  little  hands,  closed  his  eyes,  and  a  little 
sigh  told  that  the  messengers  had  arrived,  and  the  little 
spirit  was  free.  Ram  had  been  a  Christian  only  a  month. 

In  the  village  of  Kaerabani  there  lived,  some  years  ago, 
an  old  woman  by  the  name  of  Lukhi.  She  was  a  quiet,  un- 
obstructive  old  soul,  very  fond  of  her  grand-children  and 
always  to  be  found  with  one  or  two  of  them  by  her  side 
in  church  on  a  Sunday. 

Pier  oldest  grand-daughter  was  about  to  be  married. 
The  banns  had  been  published  and  the  wedding  day  fixed. 
No  one  looked  forward  to  the  event  with  greater  pleasure 
than  the  grandmother.  But  two  weeks  before  the  wed- 
ding was  to  take  place  she  was  suddenly  taken  ill  with 
dysentery.  In  two  days  she  became  so  weak,  that  she  could 
hardly  move  in  bed  and  all  hope  for  her  recovery  was  gi- 
ven up.  The  bride-to-be  sat  by  her  bed  and  wept  saying: 
"O  grandmother,  why  are  you  going  to  leave  us,  at  least 
wait  untill  after  my  wedding,  but  don't  leave  us  now." 
"It  will  be  as  He  wills,"  was  the  whispered  reply. 
Late  in  the  evening  she  became  unconscious,  her  feet 
and  hands  were  quite  cold  and  everyone  thought  she  was 


162  SKETCHES  FROM  SAXTALISTAN. 

dying.  In  this  state  she  remained  the  most  of  the  night. 
The  family  and  other  friends  watched  by  her  bedside.  At 
dawn  she  opened  her  eyes,  looked  about  her  in  a  bewildered 
way  and  asked :  "Where  am  I  ?"  On  seeing  her  grand- 
daughter she  said:  "O,  there  you  are.  I  am  not  going  just 
yet.  I  will  be  \vith  you  and  partake  in  your  wedding  feast." 

She  then  told  those  about  her  what  had  happened  to 
her.  She  had,  as  she  expressed  it,  been  to  the  other  world 
and  there  she  walked  up  a  beautiful  street,  entirely  differ- 
ent from  anything  she  had  ever  seen.  There  were  a  lot 
of  people  about  and  they  all  looked  so  happy.  From  out  of 
a  group  of  children  little  Lukhi,  one  of  her  grand-children 
who  had  died  the  year  before,  came  out  and  greeted  her. 
But  just  then  a  tall  man  came  up  to  her  and  in  a  pleasant 
voice  told  her  that  she  would  have  to  go  back  for  a  while 
yet.  "In  a  month  from  now,"  he  said,  "you  may  return." 

She  then  asked  for  some  food  and  after  a  little  while 
got  up,  dressed  and  took  her  broom  and  started  to  sweep 
the  courtyard,  as  was  her  habit  every  morning. 

She  was  quite  well  again  and  able  to  partake  in  the 
wedding  festivities,  and  as  she  had  foretold  one  month  af- 
terwards she  passed  away  very  quietly  never  to  return. 


REMARKABLE   ANSWERS   TO    PRAYER. 


The  Santal  Christians  believe  that  God  hears  their 
prayers.  They  believe  that  if  God  has  promised  a  thing, 
it  must  be  so.  He  can  not  lie.  When  they  see  that  Christ 
has  promised :  "Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  yon,"  -  they 
believe  that  He  who  gave  the  promise  is  both  willing  and 
able  to  fulfill  it.  With  childlike  faith  they  lay  hold  of  the 
promises  and  they  are  not  disappointed. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Christian  workers  the  other  day 
we  were  discussing  prayer,  and  one  of  the  men  told  us  the 
following  incident : 

"Last  week  my  youngest  daughter,  a  child  about  five 
years  old,  was  taken  very  ill.  Little  lumps,  about  the  size 
of  a  bean,  were  raised  all  over  her  body  and  she  suffered 
awfully.  Although  I  have  treated  people  for  sickness  and 
given  medicine  for  years,  I  have  never  seen  such  a  case, 
and  several  of  the  brethern,  whom  I  called,  also  told  me 
that  they  had  never  seen  a  case  like  this  one. 

We  tried  every  remedy  we  could  think  of,  but  the  child 
only  grew  worse.  For  three  days  and  nights  her  mother 
and  I  watched  by  her  bedside  and  prayed  that  our  dear 

163 


164  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAN. 

one  might  not  be  taken  from  us.  On  the  fourth  night  we 
saw  that  she  was  growing  very  weak  and  we  feared  that 
the  end  was  near.  It  was  after  midnight  when  I  went 
outside  and  again  cried  to  God  to  spare  my  child.  After 
I  had  prayed  a  calm  came  over  me.  I  did  not  worry  any 
longer.  God's  will  would  he  done.  I  entered  the  sick- 
chamber  again,  sat  down  on  the  mat  beside  the  child's  bed, 
leaned  my  head  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  in  this  position 
I  fell  asleep. 

In  a  dream  an  old  man  came  to  me  and  asked  me  if  I 
had  faith  in  God.  Three  times  he  asked  me  this  question, 
and  each  time  I  replied  that  I  had.  He  then  told  me  to 
put  dust  on  the  body  of  the  sick  child  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ  and  the  child  would  live.  When  I  awoke  the  day 
was  just  beginning  to  break.  I  took  the  moaning  child  in 
my  arms,  carried  her  out,  put  her  on  the  ground  and  rub- 
bed dust  all  over  her  body,  the  way  the  old  man  had  told 
me.  Then  I  put  her  on  the  bed  again  and  she  fell  asleep 
quietly  and  slept  for  about  two  hours,  when  she  awoke  and 
told  us  that  she  was  hungry.  The  child  was  perfectly  well. 
The  little  lumps  on  her  body  were  all  gone.  God  had  heard 
my  prayer  and  in  this  wonderful  way  healed  my  child." 

Another  incident  happened  in  our  Girls'  Boarding 
School  a  few  days  ago.  One  of  the  rules  of  the  school  had 
been  broken.  No  one  confessed,  but  suspicion  fastened 
itself  on  little  Muni,  a  nine  year  old  girl,  because  she  had 
committed  that  very  same  offence  once  before,  and  was 
then  let  off  with  a  warning.  The  matron  thought  that 
this  time  she  would  have  to  take  her  punishment  and  pro- 
ceeded to  give  her  a  little  spanking. 

Muni  knew  she  was  innocent  and  that  she  had  been 
punished  for  the  offence  of  another  girl,  and  she  felt  the 
indignity  very  keenly.  But  the  school  bell  rang  and  she 


REMARKABLE  ANSWERS  TO  PRAYER. 


165 


wiped  her  tears  and  went  to  her  class.  At  noon  she  re- 
fused to  eat  her  dinner,  but  went  to  her  sleeping-room, 
spread  her  mat,  knelt  down,  and  with  tears  told  her  Heav- 
enly Father  all  about  her  troubles.  One  of  the  nurses  sit- 
ting close  by  heard  everything  she  said.  She  asked  her 


SANTAL  FLUTE  PLAYERS. 

Savior  to  show  her  in  a  dream  who  it  was  that  should  have 
had  the  punishment. 

Muni  now  lay  down  on  her  mat  and  fell  asleep.  When 
she  awoke,  about  an  hour  later,  she  went  to  the  matron  and 
said:  "Now  I  know  who  committed  the  offence  for  which 
I  was  punished.  It  was  Man j ban." 


166  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAX. 

"How  do  you  know  it  was  Manjhan?"  the  matron 
asked. 

Muni  then  told  her  that  she  had  asked  Jesus  to  show 
her  in  a  dream  who  the  offender  was,  and  that  she  had 
seen  Manjhan.  The  nurse,  who  heard  her  pray,  told  the 
matron  what  she  said  in  her  prayer.  Manjhan  was  then 
called  and  confessed  that  she  was  the  guilty  one.  She 
asked  Muni's  forgiveness  for  the  pain  and  disgrace  she  had 
caused  her. 

But  I  must  tell  you  about  Dumni,  and  how  the  Lord 
heard  her  prayer.  Dumni  had  been  given  to  us  when  she 
was  a  little  girl  six  or  seven  years  old.  Her  widowed 
mother  was  a  heathen  and  very  poor.  There  was  famine 
in  the  district  and  many  people  suffered.  Dumni's  mother 
had  one  single  hen  which  laid  one  egg  a  day.  This  egg 
little  Dumni  would  bring  to  the  mission  every  day  and  sell 
it,  and  for  the  money  her  mother  would  buy  a  little  rice, 
from  which  she  made  soup  for  herself  and  her  children. 
She  had  several  sons,  but  Dumni  was  her  only  daughter. 
When  the  widow  saw  that  she  could  not  support  all  her 
children  any  longer,  she  brought  Dumni  to  the  mission  and 
asked  the  missionary's  wife  to  take  her  and  keep  her  as 
her  own  child.  The  gift  was  accepted  and  shortly  after- 
wards Dumni  was  sent  to  the  Girls'  Boarding  School. 

A  few  weeks  ago  she  was  confirmed  together  with  a 
class  of  thirteen  girls.  On  Monday  previous  to  the  confir- 
mation Sunday  one  of  the  older  girls  in  the  school  missed 
some  money  from  her  box,  and  accused  Dumni  of  having 
taken  it.  But  she  pleaded  her  innocence  and  said  she  knew 
nothing  about  the  money.  The  case  was  looked  into,  and, 
although  there  was  no  direct  evidence  that  Dumni  had  ta- 
ken the  money,  yet  they  were  not  able  to  clear  her  from 
the  suspicion.  She  knew,  that  unless  the  case  was  cleared 


REMARKABLE  ANSWERS  TO  PRAYER.  167 

up  and  her  innocence  established,  she  could  not  be  con- 
firmed together  with  her  class. 

In  her  distress  Dumni  fasted  and  prayed.  She  also 
asked  the  other  members  of  her  class  to  help  her  in  prayer. 
Every  day  the  class  met  for  Bible  study  and  prayed.  Sa- 
turday the  last  meeting  was  held,  and  up  to  then  nothing 
had  happened ;  the  case  was  not  cleared  up. 

The  meeting  was  over.  Final  instruction  for  the  mor- 
row was  given.  At  last  Dumni  was  called  and  asked  to 
confess,  if  she  were  guilty,  and  admonished  not  to  forfeit 
her  peace  and  joy  for  the  sake  of  a  few  cents.  But  she 
answered  that  she  could  not  confess  that  in  which  she  was 
not  guilty.  With  tears  streaming  down  her  face  she  said : 

Every  day  I  have  prayed  that  God  would  clear  up  this 
matter,  so  that  my  innocence  might  be  established,  but  un- 
til now  He  has  not  heard  me.  No  one  else  can  help  me." 

She  cried  as  if  her  heart  was  breaking  and  her  class- 
mates were  also  crying.  Just  then  the  matron  from  the 
school  arrived  and  announced  that  the  case  was  cleared  up, 
the  money  had  been  found,  and  that  Dumni  was  innocent. 

There  was  a  moments  pause,  then  Dumni  said :  Let  us 
thank  God."  And  she  poured  out  her  heart  in  thanksgiv- 
ing and  praise  to  God  for  her  wonderful  deliverance.  She 
also  prayed  for  the  girl  that  had  accused  her  falsely. 


SAM,    THE    MEDICINE-MAN. 


The  subject  of  this  sketch  was  born  in  a  village  cabed 
Ketosori  in  the  Santal  country.  While  yet  a  boy,  Sam 
often  had  visions  and  wonderful  dreams.  When  he  was 
about  nine  years  of  age,  an  old  man  came  to  him  in  a  dream 
and  told  him  not  to  eat  anything  that  had  been  prepared 
as  an  offering  to  any  of  the  bongas;  neither  should  he  eat 
anything  unclean,  such  as  the  flesh  of  animals  that  had 
died  from  disease. 

For  four  years  he  kept  this  commandment.  Then  it 
happened  that  one  of  his  neighbors  was  taken  sick.  An 
Ojha  was  called  in,  and  after  he  had  given  the  customary 
offerings  to  the  gods,  and  medicines  to  the  man,  he  recov- 
ered. After  his  recovery,  a  thanks-offering,  consisting  of 
cakes  made  from  chicken  and  pastry,  was  given.  These 
cakes  were  given  to  the  relatives  and  neighbors  of  the  man 
who  was  healed. 

On  this  occasion,  Sam  was  asked  to  take  some  of  the 
cakes  out  to  three  or  four  boys  who  were  herding  cattle 
outside  the  village.  On  his  way  out,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  he  might  taste  one  of  the  cakes.  He  was  alone,  so  no 

168 


PAM,  THE  MEDICINE-MAN. 


169 


one  would  be  the  wiser  if  he  took  one  single  cake.     The 
temptation  was  too  strong  for  him,  and  he  fell.     When  he 


SAM,  THE  MEDICINE-MAN. 

had  eaten  the  cake,  he  noticed  that  a  large  mango-tree  by 
the  way-side  began  to  shake  as  if  moved  by  a  strong  wind. 


170  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

But  it  was  a.  calm  day.  The  boy  stopped,  and  looked  at  the 
tree  and  wondered  what  this  could  mean,  when  suddenly 
a  large  branch  was  broken  off  and  fell  with  a  crash  to  the 
ground.  Then  he  remembered  his  dream  and  that  he  had 
broken  the  commandment  that  the  old  man  had  given  him. 
He  became  so  frightened  that  he  got  fever  and  was  sick  for 
a  couple  of  weeks. 

During  his  illness,  an  old  Ojha  from  the  neighborhood 
attended  him.  When  Sam  told  him  about  the  tree,  he  ex- 
plained to  him  that  a  bonga  was  after  him  and  wras  trying 
to  harm  him.  This  fear  caught  the  whole  family  and 
they  decided  to  move  away  from  the  village.  Consequent- 
ly they  gathered  their  possessions  and  moved  eastward  to 
the  Sohor  country  and  settled  in  a  village  about  six  miles 
west  of  the  Ganges. 

In  this  neighborhood  there  was  an  old  medicine- ninn, 
who  had  a  large  number  of  "chelas"  or  disciples.  Sam  went 
to  this  man  and  soon  became  one  of  his  most  promising 
boys.  When  he  had  learned  all  the  old  Ojha  had  to  teach 
him,  he  graduated  at  the  Dasae  festival.  Together  with 
their  teacher,  the  class  went  from  village  to  village.  They 
sang  and  danced  for  the  people  and  in  turns  went  into 
trances,  or  were  possessed  by  some  bonga.  After  each 
performance  of  this  kind,  they  begged  corn  from  the 
people.  Each  boy  gave  his  teacher  a  rupee  and  a  goat,  as 
pay  for  the  pains  he  had  taken  in  teaching  him. 

Sam  also  visited  all  the  greatest  medicine-men  in  the 
district  and  learned  all  he  could  from  them,  so  that  although 
he  was  but  a  young  man  he  soon  became  a  famous  Ojha, 
not  only  among  his  own  people,  but  also  among  the  Hindus 
and  Mohammedans.  From  near  and  far  people  sought  him 
when  they  were  sick  or  troubled  by  their  bongas.  They  did 
not  come  empty-handed,  but  brought  with  them  offerings 


SAM,  THE  MEDICINE  MAN. 


171 


of  money,  goats,  pigs,  fowls,  and  above  all,  plenty  of  rice- 
beer,  so  that  Sam  could  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  going  to 
bed  drunk  almost  every  evening. 

Several  years  passed  by.  Sam  was  married  and  had  a 
family.  One  day  two  of  his  children  were  taken  sick  with 
dysentery.  He  gave  them  medicine  and  offered  sacrifices 


A  CLASS  OF  YOUNG  MEDICINE-MEN 
AT  THE  DASAE  DANCE. 

to  the  gods  for  their  recovery,  but  they  grew  worse.  After 
he  had  tried  all  the  remedies  at  his  disposal,  and  offered 
the  largest  sacrifices  he  thought  the  gods  could  demand 
without  it  having  the  desired  effect,  he  went  to  a  Hindu 
mendicant,  or  holy  man,  and  asked  him  to  make  sacrifices 
to  his  gods  for  the  children.  He  arrived  at  the  shrine  of 


172  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

the  holy  man  early  in  the  morning  and  the  first  thing  he 
was  asked  after  having  stated  his  case  was  if  he  had  eaten 
anything  that  morning.  He  answered  in  the  negative  and 
the  holy  man  said : 

"Very  well,  go  to  the  Ganges  and  fetch  a  bottle  of 
water.  Buy  some  nuts,  some  butter,  milkcurds,  and  ver- 
milion in  the  bazaar  and  when  you  return  we  shall  make 
an  offering  to  the  gods  for  your  children.  But  take  care 
that  you  taste  neither  food  nor  water  before  you  return." 

Sam  was  accompanied  by  one  of  his  brothers.  They 
went  to  the  Ganges,  a  distance  of  four  miles,  and  procured 
the  things  required  by  the  holy  man.  It  was  in  the  month 
of  May  and  the  weather  was  very  hot.  They  were  both 
faint  from  thirst  and  hunger,  when  they  returned.  The 
holy  man  offered  to  his  gods  and  assured  Sam  that  his 
children  would  be  saved.  With  hope  in  their  hearts,  they 
returned  to  their  home,  where  they  arrived  late  in  the  after- 
noon, but  to  their  great  disappointment  found  the  children 
worse  than  they  were  in  the  morning.  That  night  one  of 
them  died.  The  next  night  the  other  one  passed  away. 

Then  Sarn  said,  ''Xow  I  am  through  with  the  bongas. 
I  have  offered  the  greatest  sacrifices  for  my  children  and 
yet  they  did  not  make  them  well.  They  have  evidently  no 
power  to  heal.  I  shall  never  offer  to  them  any  more,  no 
matter  what  happens  to  me,  and  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them." 

When  Sam  broke  up  his  altar,  people  thought  he  was 
crazy  and  warned  him  not  to  do  it,  for  if  he  did,  the  bon- 
gas would  surely  kill  him. 

Several  weeks  passed  by,  and  nothing  happened  to  Sam. 
People  came  to  him  as  before  to  be  helped.  He  gave  them 
medicine  which  he  prepared  from  roots  and  herbs,  but  per- 
formed no  sacrifices  for  them.  He  was  convinced  that  the 


SAM,  THE  MEDICINE-MAN.  173 

bongas  were  false  but  that  somewhere  there  must  be  a  true 
God  and  he  hoped  to  know  him. 

One  evening  in  the  rainy  season,  a  young  Santal  came 
to  his  house,  and  asked  if  he  could  get  lodging  there  over 
night.  He  was  welcomed  and  shown  genuine  Santal  hos- 
pitality. The  young  man  was  one  of  the  village  school 
teachers  of  our  mission  and  had  come  to  Sohor  in  connec- 
tion with  a  law-suit.  He  was  certainly  led  by  the  Lord  to 
Sam's  house.  After  the  evening  meal,  Sam  gave  him  a 
mat  and  showed  him  where  he  could  spend  the  night.  The 
young  teacher  spread  his  mat,  sat  down  on  it,  got  a  book 
from  his  bundle  and  began  to  sing.  The  song  was  about 
the  love  of  God  and  his  care  for  those  who  trust  in  him. 
Sam's  heart  was  touched.  He  had  never  heard  the  gospel 
of  salvation  before.  All  he  knew  about  Christianity  was 
that  it  was  the  religion  of  the  white  people  and  that  some 
Santals  had  disgraced  themselves  by  adopting  it  and  were 
consequently  outcasted.  When  the  song  was  ended,  Sam 
asked  the  young  man  to  sing  it  again.  This  he  did  and 
then  explained  the  song  verse  by  verse.  Neither  Sam 
nor  his  guest  went  to  bed  that  night.  The  young  teacher 
told  the  old,  old  story  of  Jesus  and  his  love  over  and  over 
again. 

For  a  whole  month  this  young  teacher  stayed  with  Sam 
and  instructed  him  and  his  family  in  the  word  of  God.  Then 
he  came  to  the  mission  and  asked  us  to  send  a  catechist 
over  to  prepare  them  for  baptism. 

The  Sohor  country  is  outside  of  our  missionfield,  but 
the  society  working  in  that  district  had  done  no  work 
among  the  Santals  and  were  willing  that  we  should  baptize 
them.  Consequently  after  they  had  been  instructed,  a 
pastor  was  sent  over  to  baptize  them. 

After  Sam  and  his  family  had  become  Christians,  their 


174  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAN. 

heathen  neighbors  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  them. 
They  refused  to  give  them  fire,  or  to  lend  them  anything, 
or  help  them  when  they  were  in  need.  Sam  had  very  little 
land  and  was  not  used  to  hard  work  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  and  his  family  began  to  suffer  want. 

One  evening  he  found  his  wife  weeping.  She  told  him 
that  there  was  no  food  in  the  house  and  that  everybody  she 
had  asked  refused  to  lend  her  anything.  Perhaps  after  all 
they  had  been  foolish  in  becoming  Christians.  The  out- 
look was  very  gloomy,  but  Sam  took  his  troubles  to  the 
Throne  of  Grace  and  asked  for  help. 

That  night  he  had  a  dream  or,  perhaps,  it  was  more 
like  a  vision.  He  saw  a  European  standing  on  a  high 
embankment  directing  a  great  number  of  people  who  were 
busy  carrying  earth  on  to  the  embankment  beside  a  great 
river.  Sam  was  made  to  understand  that  he  should  go  to 
the  white  man  and  ask  for  \vork. 

When  the  vision  had  passed  away  he  understood  that 
he  should  go  to  the  Ganges  where  they  were  building  a 
new  rail-road  just  then.  In  the  morning  he  told  his  wife 
that  he  was  going  away  to  get  work.  She  said,  ''How  can 
I  let  you  go  without  getting  any  breakfast.  Wait  a  bit  and 
I  will  ask  your  sister  again  to  lend  us  a  bowl  full  of  rice." 

In  a  little  while  she  returned  with  a  little  rice.  This 
she  cooked  and  gave  him,  and  he  was  soon  on  Irs  \vay  to 
the  Ganges. 

Arriving  at  the  river,  he  saw  a  great  number  of  people 
at  work  building  up  an  earthwork  for  a  railway.  Long 
lines  of  coolies  carried  earth  in  baskets  on  their  heads  and 
dumped  it  on  the  embankments.  Among  the  coolies,  direct- 
ing their  work,  he  saw  a  European  and  at  once  recognized 
him  as  the  man  he  had  seen  in  the  vision,  lie  went  up  to 
him,  greeted  him  respectfully  and  asked  him  for  work. 


SAM,  THE  MEDICINE-MAN. 


175 


The  European  asked  him  if  he  could  read  and  \vrite. 
To  this  he  answered  in  the  affirmative  and  was  told  that 
he  would  get  work  at  once  directing  a  squad  of  twenty 
coolies.  Besides  his  salary  he  would  get  a  certain  percent- 
age of  every  square  yard  of  earth  his  squad  excavated.  Sam 
was  happy  and  with  his  heart  full  of  praise  to  God  he  com- 


SAM'S  HOUSE  AND  CLASS  OF  CATECHUMENS. 

menced  his  work.  He  sent  for  his  family  and  lived  in  the 
camp  for  several  months.  Soon  his  squad  was  increased. 
At  times  he  had  as  many  as  one  hundred  coolies  working 
under  him. 

When  the  work  on  the  railroad  was  finished,  he  re- 
turned to  his  village,  paid  all  his  debts  and  had  enough  left 
to  live  on  for  the  rest  of  the  vear. 


176  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

All  this  time  he  had  been  reading  his  testament  and  his 
knowledge  of  Christian  truth  increased.  The  trials  he  had 
gone  through  had  deepened  his  spiritual  life,  lie  now  be- 
gan to  speak  to  his  friends  and  relatives  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, inviting  them  to  come  to  the  Savior.  At  first  they 
ridiculed  him  and  asked  him  to  mind  his  own  business  and 
leave  them  alone.  Every  day  Sam  cried  to  God  for  help 
that  His  kingdom  might  come  to  the  Sohor  country  where 
so  many  of  his  people  sat  in  darkness. 

Across  the  street  from  Sam's  house,  his  oldest  sister 
and  her  family  lived.  This  sister  was  a  very  strong  op- 
ponent of  Christianity  and  used  every  opportunity  to 
thwart  him  in  his  efforts  to  win  souls  for  Christ.  But  Sam 
prayed  and  waited  for  his  opportunity  and  it  came. 

One  of  the  sons  of  this  sister,  a  lad  of  twelve  years, 
was  working  for  a  Hindu  in  the  next  village.  An  unknown 
disease  broke  out  in  that  village  and  several  people  died. 
One  night  two  Hindus  brought  the  Santal  boy  home  to  his 
mother's  house  on  a  stretcher.  He  was  very  ill.  His 
throat  was  choking  and  he  was  unable  to  talk.  The 
whole  family  was  greatly  alarmed  and  feared  that  the  boy 
would  die.  In  her  agony,  the  mother  ran  across  the  street 
to  her  brother  Sam's  house,  roused  him  and  asked  him  to 
come  over  and,  if  possible,  to  do  something  to  save  her  boy. 
Sam  replied  that  of  himself  he  could  do  nothing.  It  was 
not  in  his  power  to  save  the  boy's  life,  but  if  she  would 
give  her  heart  to  God  and  pray  for  her  son,  perhaps  it 
might  please  God  to  show  her  mercy  and  heal  her  boy.  She 
replied,  "Yes,  brother,  I  will  believe  in  the  God  you  be- 
lieve in,  but  come  quickly,  and  pray  for  my  boy. 

Sam  soon  knelt  by  the  cot  of  the  sick  boy,  placed  his 
hands  on  his  head  and  prayed  that  God  should  be  merciful 


SAM,  THE  MEDICINE  MAN. 


177 


and  save  the  boy  so  that  the  heathen  might  see  that  he 
alone  was  the  true  God. 

After  the  prayer  the  boy  sat  up  and  took  some  ginger- 
water  they  had  prepared  for  him.  The  next  morning  he 
was  perfectly  well.  A  few  months  later,  he  came  to  the 


DURGA  AND  RARIA  ON  THEIR  WEDDING  DAY. 


Boarding  School  for  boys  at  Kaerabani  and  is  a  promising 
lad. 

This  occurance  opened  the  eyes,  not  only  of  the  friends 
and  relatives  of  the  family,  but  of  the  neighbors  as  well. 
They  had  seen  with  their  own  eyes  that  a  boy,  who  was  at 
death's  door,  had  been  healed  through  prayer.  The  God 


178 


SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 


of  the  Christians  must  he  the  trne  God  and  stronger  than 
their  bongas. 

From  this  time,  people  began  to  listen  to  the  word  of 
God.  Their  eyes  and  hearts  were  opened  and  soon  a  large 
number  asked  to  be  instructed  for  baptism.  A  few  months 
later,  Sam  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  first  class  of 
catechumens  baptized.  In  all  there  were  forty  souls. 

In  the  work  of  instructing  this  class  as  well  as  to  shep- 
herd them  afterwards,  Sam  has  been  ably  assisted  by  Dur- 
ga  and  his  splendid  v.ife  Raria,  a  graduate  of  our  Girl's 
School  at  Benagaria.  Shortly  after  their  marriage,  the)' 
were  sent  to  Sohor  to  assist  in  the  upbuilding  of  God's 
kingdom  there. 


THE    SANTAL    MISSION 
OF   THE    NORTHERN    CHURCHES. 


The  Santal  mission,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  was 
founded  in  the  year  1867  hy  two  men,  whose  names  are 
household  words  among  the  Scandinavian  Lutherans,  Boer- 
resen  and  Skrefsrud. 

II.  P.  Boerresen  was  a  native  of  Denmark,  born  in  the 
city  of  Copenhagen,  Xov.  29,  1825.  His  parents  were  poor 
laboring  people  and  his  chances  to  acquire  an  education 
were  very  limited.  He  learned  the  trade  of  a  mechanic  in 
his  native  city  and  when  about  27  years  of  age  he  went 
to  Berlin,  in  Germany,  to  learn  mechanical  engineering  and 
to  better  his  conditions. 

It  was  while  he  was  yet  a  stranger  in  Berlin  that  he 
heard  his  Savior's  voice  calling  him  and  he  received  grace 
to  believe  that  his  sins  were  forgiven.  He  soon  began  to 
take  part  in  the  religious  activities  of  that  city  and  thus 
came  into  contact  with  people  who  were  interested  in  mis- 
sions. Among  others,  he  became  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Hempel,  whose  daughter.  Caroline,  later  became  his  wife. 

The  marriage  took  place  in  the  summer  of  the  year 

180 


THE  SANTAL  MISSION. 


181 


H.  P.  BOERRESEN 


182  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

1855.  Both  Boerresen  and  his  young  wife  were  interested 
in  missions  and  felt  called  to  offer  themselves  as  workers 
in  heathen  lands.  Their  desire  was  to  go  to  China,  but  no 
way  was  opened  for  them  and  several  years  passed.  They 
had  to  he  led  through  sorrow  and  trials  before  they  were 
ready  to  say :  "Lord,  where  thou  leadest  we  will  follow !" 

L.  O.  Skrefsrud  was  horn  in  Gudbrandsdalen,  Norway, 
Febr.  4,  1810.  Mis  parents  were  very  poor  and  the  family 
was  a  large  one.  They  were  in  ail  9  brothers  and  sisters. 
His  father  was  a  shiftless  man  and  the  family  often  suf- 
fered want.  His  mother  was  a  warmhearted  Christian 
woman  who  took  all  her  troubles  to  God  in  prayer. 

While  yet  a  lad  in  his  teens,  Skrefsrud  had  to  leave 
home  and  shift  for  himself.  He  worked  for  some  time  in 
a  machine  shop  at  I.illchammer  and  it  was  his  desire  to 
keep  his  confirmation  vows  and  the  promises  he  had  given 
his  mother  on  his  departure  from  home.  He  had  been 
away  from  home  a  little  over  a  year,  when  he  received  the 
sad  news  that  his  mother  was  dead.  This  was  a  hard 
shock  to  the  young  man  for  he  loved  her  dearly  and  felt 
that  he  had  lost  his  best  earthly  friend. 

A  year  later  he  joined  a  highland  regiment  as  drummer 
boy,  fell  into  bad  company,  forgot  his  vows  and  lived  a 
Godless  life.  But  his  mother's  prayers  should  not  remain 
unanswered.  His  sins  found  him  out  and  he  had  to  suffer 
bitter  consequences.  He  was  awakened  to  see  his  awful 
condition  and  after  long  struggles  found  peace  with  God. 

Simultaneous  with  his  conversion  the  desire  of  becom- 
ing a  missionary  to  the  heathen  was  kindled  in  his  heart. 
He  began  to  study,  especially  languages,  and  to  prepare 
himself  for  the  lifework  before  him.  At  this  time  he  lived 
in  Christiania,  the  capital  city  of  Norway.  He  had  no 
money  to  spend  for  schooling  but  worked  all  day  and 


THE  SANTAL  MISSION. 


184  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTAL1STAN. 

studied  in  the  evenings,  receiving  help  now  and  then  from 
students  at  the  university  in  the  city. 

In  1863  Skrefsrud  applied  for  admission  at  the  training 
school  for  missionaries,  shortly  before  established  in  Stav- 
anger,  but  was  refused.  This  was  a  great  disappointment 
to  him  and  to  ease  his  heart  he  told  his  troubles  to  a 
Christian  friend,  Mr.  Holte.  This  man  advised  him  to  go 
to  Germany  and  seek  admission  to  one  of  the  training 
schools  there.  Holte  also  told  him  that  one  of  his  sons  had 
just  returned  from  Berlin  and  could  give  him  directions 
about  the  journey  and  perhaps  also  give  him  letters  of 
introduction  to  Christian  friends  in  that  city. 

Skrefsrud  sought  young  Holte,  got  the  desired  direc- 
tions about  the  journey  and  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  II.  P.  Boerresen  in  Berlin. 

Skrefsrud  arrived  in  Berlin,  in  the  fall  of  1862,  and 
found  the  Boerresens,  \vho  were  destined  to  become  his 
friends  and  coworkers  as  long  as  he  lived. 

For  one  year  Skrefsrud  attended  the  Prochnow  Mis- 
sion School  and  on  his  graduation  he  received  a  call  from 
the  Goszner  Society  to  join  their  mission  to  the  Coles  in 
Chota  Nagpur,  India.  Before  he  left  Berlin  it  was  agreed 
that  Boerresen  and  family  should  come  out  and  join  him 
as  soon  as  they  had  disposed  of  their  business. 

In  May  1865  the  Boerresens  joined  Skrefsrud  at  the 
mission  station  Purulia.  It  was  a  joyful  meeting,  but  their 
joy  was  not  to  last  long.  A  disagreement  arose  between 
the  German  and  Scandinavian  missionaries  and  the  latter 
resigned  their  service  as  missionaries  in  the  Goszner  society. 
Through  trials  and  difficulties  the  Lord  led  them  His  own 
way  to  the  glory  of  His  name. 

From  Purulia  thcv  returned  to  Calcutta,  where  Christ- 


THE  SANTAL  MISSION. 


185 


186  SKETCHES  FROM  SANTALISTAN. 

ian  friends  assisted  them,  and  the  Lord  soon  had  them 
where  He  wished  to  u?e  them,  among  the  Santals. 

A  September  morning  in  1867  these  two  servants  of 
God  gathered  a  few  stones  south  of  the  village  of  Bena- 
garia  in  Santal  Parganas  where  they  had  received  some 
land  from  a  Bengali  landlord,  called  it  their  Ebenezer  and 
kneeling  consecrated  themselves  anew  to  God  and  to  his 
service  among  the  Santals. 

They  had  no  mission  society  and  no  funds  to  fall  back 
on,  but  trusted  in  God  that  He  would  provide  for  them,  and 
they  were  not  disappointed.  Boerresen  had  to  spend  a 
good  deal  of  his  time  the  first  years  in  traveling  about  in 
India  soliciting  funds  for  the  mission.  Skrefsrud  threw 
all  his  energy  into  the  study  of  Santali,  and  so  great  were  his 
abilities  as  a  linguist,  that  after  three  years  he  published  a 
Santali  grammar  which  after  having  stood  the  test  for  over 
forty  years,  is  still  the  standard  work  in  that  language. 

On  the  28th  of  March  186°  they  had  the  great  joy  of 
baptizing  three  young  men,  the  first  fruit  of  their  labor 
among  the  Santals.  Forty-four  years  have  passed  since 
that  joyfull  event.  They  have  been  years  of  trials,  strug- 
gles and  tribulations,  but  also  years  of  glorious  victories 
When  Boerresen  on  the  21st  of  September  1901  was  called 
home  to  his  rest  not  only  a  Ghristian  community  of  13,000 
souls  but  even  the  heathen  Santals,  Hindus  and  Moham- 
medans, who  had  come  in  contact  with  his  great,  warm 
heart,  mourned  his  departure. 

On  December  llth.  1910  when  Skrefsrud  passed  away 
after  an  illness  of  nearly  two  years  the  Santal  church  had 
a  membership  of  over  15,000  souls. 

At  the  time  of  writing  this  little  historical  sketch  the 
membership  has  risen  to  about  17,000,  and  the  work  is 
growing  a  steady  and  healthy  growth. 


THE  SANTAL  MISSION. 


187 


It  was  the  hope  of  the  founders  of  the  mission  that  the 
funds  for  its  support  should  be  raised  in  India,  therefore 
they  called  it  ''The  Indian  Home  Mission  to  the  Santals." 
After  Skrefsruds  death  the  mission  was  reorganized  and 
now  bears  the  name  found  at  the  head  of  this  chapter.  It 
is  supported  by  contributions  from  friends  in  Norway, 
Denmark  and  America.  Each  of  these  countries  have  a 
comittee  vi  hich  together  with  the  trustees  of  the  mission 
are  responsible  for  the  continuation  of  the  work. 

Until  today  the  Lord  has  helped,  and  may  we  not  rest 
assured  that  He  will  continue  to  help  his  servants  until 
the  last  battle  is  won?  For  he  is  faithful  that  promised. 


A     000  096  050     0 


